tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73537451196386889432024-03-19T00:00:33.109-04:00Author Samantha WilcoxsonSamantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.comBlogger361125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-28909863405630155972024-03-19T00:00:00.055-04:002024-03-19T00:00:00.137-04:00Stay with the Wagons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n7gUh55FUo7aoHlVU5N4EJWMh9UXkeUcyltxqWjTFQfmXih0R4q0YpGKJkxcEiaIH_IGpAizarNR65qQOzIQ9vPclfs1-9h0Tfstmu3jaVotnCaqdQTwVJdc_8sZPanCPlvK9RUnm5-If-FbOEg5TkzM3FxPFOvVw6fFsdUXHRO5LIEiwVeZDxfj01w/s640/Stay%20with%20the%20Wagons%20Tour%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n7gUh55FUo7aoHlVU5N4EJWMh9UXkeUcyltxqWjTFQfmXih0R4q0YpGKJkxcEiaIH_IGpAizarNR65qQOzIQ9vPclfs1-9h0Tfstmu3jaVotnCaqdQTwVJdc_8sZPanCPlvK9RUnm5-If-FbOEg5TkzM3FxPFOvVw6fFsdUXHRO5LIEiwVeZDxfj01w/w640-h360/Stay%20with%20the%20Wagons%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><b>Good morning, dear readers! You may remember <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2024/02/a-grave-every-mile.html" target="_blank">recent guest, David Fitz-Gerald</a>. He joins me again today with a lovely excerpt from his novel, <i>Stay with the Wagons</i>.</b></p><p><b>Welcome, David!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Stay with the Wagons</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by David Fitz-Gerald</span></b></p><p>It’s so exciting to be on tour, supporting Stay with the Wagons, Book Three in the series Ghost Along the Oregon Trail set in 1850. This installment features some of my favorite scenes and locations, including Independence Rock, Devil’s Gate, and the White Mountain Petroglyphs, in what is now Wyoming.</p><p>In August 2022, as I was working on my manuscript, I traveled to Fort Bridger. Before my characters visited the famous mountain man’s trading post, Dorcas Moon’s teenaged daughter went missing, disappearing into the wilderness.</p><p>For those of you who have read A Grave Every Mile and Lighten the Load, you know that this troubled teen disappears far too often. In Stay with the Wagons, she borrows a horse without permission and rides off alone in the middle of the night without a word to anyone.</p><p>It is as if a mystical power draws her to a sacred place where she meets Chief Washakie, his pregnant wife, and a blind seer. The sandstone hill features a cave, ancient carvings, and a large rock known as The Birthing Stone. Many of the petroglyphs depict animals within animals. Some portray the birthing process. This holy place is an ancient monument to womanhood and childbirth.</p><p>The day I visited, it was sunny and warm. I was glad to get there early before it got too hot outside. There wasn’t anyone else there and I was grateful for the solitude. Wyoming is known for being windy, but that morning was calmer than usual. It was so quiet and desolate, that time didn’t seem to matter.</p><p>It was a great day to contemplate the miracle of life and the balance between the past, present, and future. I didn’t want to leave, but as I drove away, I couldn’t wait to send my beloved characters on their own journey to this spiritual place.</p><p>Perhaps you know the feeling. Have you visited a place wrapped in a similar mystical allure? A place where the past and present merged and spoke directly to you?</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Here’s an excerpt from June 28, 1850:</b></p><p>Our guides have let us sleep late this morning. When the trumpet sounds at dawn, I glance about and see that Rose is already up and gone. She often rises before Reveille, but I become concerned when Rose fails to materialize as the boys and I prepare for our morning departure.</p><p>After harnessing the oxen, I can no longer wait patiently for my daughter to appear. I hate asking for help, but when it comes to a child’s safety, one cannot be too proud. Our guides are finishing their breakfast at the wagon master’s camp when I sound the alarm. It’s rare to find Boss Wheel, Agapito, Arikta, and Dembi Koofai all in camp at the same time. I exclaim, “Rose is missing!”</p><p>I can’t bear to look at Boss Wheel. The gruff ramrod has made his feelings about Rose crystal clear. Agapito tells the scouts to fetch the horses as the wagon master cusses in French. Then, ever so briefly, Agapito places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.</p><p>Dembi Koofai returns at a fast trot, with Arikta right behind him. The Shoshone says, “Rio is missing.” He says more with his hands than with the words he speaks. “I track.”</p><p>Agapito fills in the missing details, though I know enough of the hand talk to understand that Dembi Koofai thinks Rose is riding Rio. There are no other tracks, so whatever has happened, kidnapping and horse thievery are not suspected. It appears that Rose has ridden off on the assistant wagon master’s horse alone and on purpose.</p><p>Agapito tells Dembi Koofai and Arikta to follow the missing horse’s trail, but Boss Wheel interrupts him. “The wagons will continue. I’ll ride point, Arikta will ride drag, and you stay with the wagon. Dembi Koofai can go alone.”</p><p>I say, “I’m going with him.” Agapito’s brow furrows and he shakes his head slowly. He looks concerned but I can’t worry about that now.</p><p>Boss Wheel scowls at me. “I don’t recommend it. This is Shoshone country.” His scowl deepens into a sneer. “Dembi Koofai can move faster on his own without having to look out for you. He knows the country, and he is our best tracker.” Boss Wheel turns his back to me and tells his scout, “We will camp on the Big Sandy tonight and the Green River the next two nights.”</p><p>I don’t care what Boss Wheel says. I’m going with Dembi Koofai. I turn my back and run toward camp. After a few quick words with Stillman and the children, I saddle Blizzard, fill a canteen, and toss biscuits in my saddlebags. Andrew looks confused, Christopher appears jealous, and Dahlia Jane seems like she wants to cry. I try to reassure them. “Don’t worry, children, we’ll find your sister.”</p><p>Dahlia Jane says, “What if something happens to you, Mama?” The child bursts into tears, and I can’t imagine what tragedy she imagines. There isn’t time for more, so I hug her quickly and promise her that there is no need to worry. I can feel my face twitching as I say words to the child that I can’t possibly be sure of myself.</p><p>Dembi Koofai has a lead on me, but Blizzard catches up quickly. He rides along at a fast trot, eyes following a dusty trail that is so clear, even I could follow it.</p><p>I ask, “How do you know it’s Rio and Rose’s trail.”</p><p>“Ever’ horse is differen’. They don’ go fas’.”</p><p>“How old are the tracks?” If Rose rode off in the last hour or so, we should find her fast.</p><p>“Don’ know.” The mysterious scout doesn’t offer suspicions, voice concerns, or express worry. I imagine tracking takes concentration, so I fall back a little and let the man do his work.</p><p>Soon after, Dembi Koofai turns back to me and says, “They go fas’.” He turns back and follows the straight trail in a southeastern direction. I watch the constellations of spots strewn across his horse’s speckled haunches as the Shoshone rides at a spirited, mile-eating trot.</p><p>We maintain a steady pace without stopping to rest. My throat is parched, and I need a drink, but I appreciate the scout’s diligence. My daughter’s life could depend on finding her quickly. There is no time to stop. We shall tend to our thirst later.</p><p>After hours on the flat trail, we reach an area of rocky hills, and beyond them lies a ridge of mountains. Dembi Koofai doesn’t appear to be watching the ground as much. Instead, he looks toward the mountains in the distance as if hoping to see movement on the horizon. It’s been hours since he has spoken. Finally, he turns to me, points, and says, “I know where she goin’.”</p><p>Rose doesn’t ride horses that often, and I can’t remember her ever riding bareback. I don’t know why she would think she could take a horse that doesn’t belong to us. We’ve been trailing her all day. She must have ridden off in the middle of the night, or we would have caught up to her hours ago. What’s gotten into that child now?</p><p>An hour later, the Shoshone says, “Almos’ there.”</p><p>The distant gray mountains seem to have changed color now that we’re in them. An impressive rise of yellow and brown sandstone stands tall above us as we ride toward it. A trickle of smoke leads from somewhere on the other side of the prominence. Before we circle around the bluff, Dembi Koofai says, “We are not alone. Don’ worry.” He makes the sign for friends and then the sign for family. I can’t fathom how he could know. Perhaps he has seen more tracks or other evidence.</p><p>We continue at a slow walk. A couple of minutes later, the solemn scout coughs quietly at first and then louder. I’ve never heard the man make such a sound before. The horses take a couple more steps, and I see Rose seated beside a fire with a small group of Indians: two middle-aged men, a younger woman heavy with child, and a couple of children. I gasp at the sight of my missing daughter, surprised to see her sitting with strangers, and relieved that she appears unharmed.</p><p>I glance to the left and see Rio, the horse that Rose borrowed without permission, standing at rest in the shade of a steep rock wall. I squint and see crude pictures scratched into the brown sandstone. They are a curiosity. If only there were time to look at them.</p><p>In front of me, Dembi Koofai slides from Coffeepot’s back and approaches the fire. I also dismount.</p><p>The men rise, and Dembi Koofai greets the taller man. Instead of shaking hands, the men clasp each other’s forearms near the bend of their elbows. The shorter man has a hunched back and scary-looking, white eyes. After exchanging a few words with Dembi Koofai, the short man sits across from Rose and stares into her face.</p><p>I step toward Dembi Koofai and the taller man, and peek at Rose, who doesn’t acknowledge my arrival. She sits cross-legged and silently stares into the strange man’s haunting gaze.</p><p>Dembi Koofai turns halfway toward me, not turning his back toward the taller man. “This man Chief Washakie. Ver’ good friend.” Then Dembi Koofai walks backward toward the horses and crouches in the shade beside his Appaloosa.</p><p>I don’t know how to greet this man. Should I offer my hand or try to grasp his arm as Dembi Koofai did? Not knowing what else to do, I curtsy and admonish myself. Chief Washakie looks at my legs. He must have seen Larkin’s trousers. Then, he looks at my bosom, smiles, and looks into my eyes. By now, I should be accustomed to the way men’s eyes linger when they look at my chest. I know better than to wait for the scout to introduce me, especially given the fact that he has stepped away from Chief Washakie. My tongue trips as I try to speak, and I eventually spit my name into the air. The warm, friendly smile on the Chief’s round cheeks puts me at ease.</p><p>Washakie reaches his hand toward me like a southern gentleman. I extend my hand, and he takes it into his. He bows softly toward me, his straight black hair cascading over his shoulders.</p><p>“It is nice to meet you, Dorcas. Is this child your daughter? You must be very proud.”</p><p>I glance at Rose, who doesn’t seem to be listening to me and the chief. “Yes, Chief. Her name is Rose Moon. I’m so relieved that we found her. I was very worried.”</p><p>He looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “You need not worry about this one.” He sweeps an arm toward Rose as if casting a spell of invincibility upon her. “The ancient ones watch over her. But a mother always worries about her children.” He turns toward the woman who stands a short distance away and speaks to me. “Would you like to meet my wife?”</p><p>I’m distracted by the Indian’s words. What ancient ones? How could they watch over Rose? Sometimes it seems like the whole world is going mad. I say, “Yes, Chief. It would be an honor, your Highness.” I don’t know how to talk to an Indian chief, and I hope I’m doing so correctly.</p><p>“Please call me Washakie. Should I call you Mrs. Moon?”</p><p>“Thank you, Washakie. That is most kind. You may call me Dorcas.”</p><p>Washakie beckons the Indian woman with his hand, and she steps toward us. “This is Crimson Dawn, and these are our youngest children.”</p><p>I extend my hand. Forgetting to be ladylike, I realize that my grip is too firm. I relax my hand, and Crimson Dawn bows her head toward me as she brings her hand back to her side. I’m surprised when she says, “You are like the woman who left her handprints in stone.” She points at a nearby rock.</p><p>Washakie extends an arm toward the rock and suggests we take a closer look. “This is the Birthing Stone. Crimson Dawn hopes to have the baby here, but the little one doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.”</p><p>I can’t believe I’m in the presence of an Indian chief, let alone talking with him about childbirth. He seems to be at ease. I think of Boss Wheel and Captain Meadows, who are nothing like this man. Perhaps being away from the responsibility of leadership causes Washakie to be relaxed. The coming birth of a child doesn’t seem to unnerve him either. I wonder how many children he has fathered, and then I try to estimate his age.</p><p>As if reading my mind, the man looks at me and says, “You are trying to guess my age. The truth is, only the Great Spirit knows for sure. I was orphaned young, but I’ve seen at least forty winters. What about you, Dorcas?”</p><p>“A lady never reveals her true age.” I grin. “But I am happy to confide in you, Washakie. I am thirty-four.”</p><p>The chief leads us from the Birthing Stone to the wall that shades the horses. I think of the names, initials, and years carved into Independence Rock and other places along the dusty roadway we have traveled. The ancient drawings on these remote mountains make me think differently about leaving something for future people to wonder about.</p><p>One illustration features a long horse carrying a stick figure with an impressive array of feathers flowing down his back. The oversized spear with a point half as large as the rider seems to have an oval aura surrounding it. I try to imagine the warrior or hunter preserving his likeness in stone, patiently scratching away at the soft rock for hours. I think of Bacon and try to imagine an ancient Indian, eons ago, preserving a single moment in stone.</p><p>The wall features many pictures of buffalo. Some are more intricate than others and require an active imagination to see. Many images look like feet. From their shape, I don’t think they represent people. They look more like bear footprints to me.</p><p>The most curious images I see are of one animal drawn inside another. I look back at the Birthing Stone, standing in the bright afternoon sun a short distance away. Then, I look at an etching that appears to show an animal giving birth. I gasp at the next symbol I see. At the risk of sounding vulgar, the only way I can think to describe it is to say it looks like an unmentionable lady part. Despite the depiction of a hunter with a huge spear, this sacred landmark seems like a place dedicated to womanhood.</p><p>Next, Washakie leads us into the shade. He says, “This is a sacred place of life, fertility, and rebirth.” I wonder what he means by rebirth. Does he refer to a spiritual reawakening of some sort? There is a feeling of optimism that overwhelms me.</p><p>I look at the wise chief and say, “This is a very special place.”</p><p>“Would you spend the night as our guests, Dorcas?”</p><p>I look away for a moment. It took us so long to get here, there’s no chance of returning to The Oregon Trail tonight. I look back and say, “Thank you, Washakie. We’d be much obliged.”</p><p>When we return to the small fire, Crimson Dawn hands me a bowl of stew. Washakie’s friend sits like a statue and continues looking into Rose’s face, and she stares back with that same vacant expression that always scares me. I don’t know what to say about my daughter’s strange behavior. I want to jostle her and force her to acknowledge my presence, but experience has taught me not to disturb her during such moments. Instead, I say to Washakie. “Sometimes, my daughter seems asleep and awake at the same time.”</p><p>Washakie looks at me knowingly. He says, “Do not worry, Dorcas. I understand.” I scratch my chin as he speaks, and look at Rose. I wish I could say that I understand.</p><p>As I slowly chew the thick stew, Washakie tells me that his friend is known as Sees Through Clouds. I ask if the man is blind, and Washakie says his vision comes and goes. “Like many who lose their vision, Sees Through Clouds can see things that others cannot. His medicine is very strong.”</p><p>After a moment passes, I decide to ask a question. I understand why Washakie and his wife have come to this place. I’m surprised that another woman hasn’t come along to help Crimson Dawn during her confinement. But, I don’t understand the presence of the medicine man. Afraid of offending, I whisper to the chief, “Why is Sees Through Clouds here?”</p><p>Washakie seems to be surprised by my question. “Spirit people are always drawn to sacred places. You know that, Dorcas.”</p><p>I gulp, wanting to inquire further but unable to speak the words: Do I?</p><p>***</p><p>After a delicious meal and great conversation with the chief and his pleasant wife, I’m weary and ready to retire. Everyone is quiet, and I’m expecting Washakie to suggest that everyone go to bed.</p><p>Dembi Koofai sits beside me but slightly away from the fire. He’s been quiet as usual. Sometimes, I turn my head and glance at him just to see if he’s still here.</p><p>Since we arrived, Rose’s vacant fog lifted sufficiently to tend to basic biological necessities. I tried to speak to her when I led her away, but she neither acknowledged my presence nor indicated she knew I was speaking. When she ate, she chewed like she was matching the slow rhythm of native drums. The most unnerving thing to witness as her mother is the strange countenance of the man, Sees Through Clouds, who seems to be out of his head as much as she is. Over the past several months, Rose’s strange ways have become more and more concerning. Though I hate to admit it, I may have to accept that Rose will never be her old self again.</p><p>When Dembi Koofai suddenly bounds forward, chattering in his native language, I wince. He holds a scorpion in his hand. Over and over again, the rickety spider unfurls its curly tail and strikes his hand. Dembi Koofai giggles and laughs like someone is tickling him. The mysterious scout with the mystical countenance seems like a different person as he rejoices in being stung repeatedly by the devilish creature. When the scorpion’s energy wanes, Dembi Koofai holds the spider over his naked chest. The arachnid lashes out with its claws and grabs hold of Dembi Koofai’s skin, tightly clamping its tiny pincers into the Shoshone’s naked flesh.</p><p>The young man, who always looks like he wants to disappear, smiles proudly, thrusts his chest forward, boastfully and looks down at the insect that clings to him like an adornment. I’ve never witnessed anything like what just happened, and can’t stop looking at the young man’s chest. The scorpion looks like it clings to life as it clutches Dembi Koofai. Perhaps it perished after latching on. The scout speaks to Washakie. “I’ll stand watch.”</p><p>Our host says, “Wake me when you are tired.”</p><p>When Dembi Koofai is gone, I tell Washakie that the scout regards the scorpion as his spirit creature. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget moments like this. My chest heaves with exhilaration. I’ve been told that scorpions aren’t lethal this far north, but something about watching the scout’s brave display seemed dangerous. A year ago, I never imagined that I’d be camping in a sacred location with scorpions and an Indian chief.</p><p>Washakie says, “Scorpions are masculine symbols of youthfulness, potency, and vigor. Their presence here, at this monument to womanhood, represents balance.”</p><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/stay-with-the-wagons " target="_blank">Keep reading Stay with the Wagons!</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3POrqtI65oLOZF1RKPALyaEPbYoTXtejtPBbbwf-pnL9kRsb-uilBBwzZb4PD6sMjx_f6F0bT9J5GlAarnNpYXAwQYaGKPOaje_y48aIxsRzOM1LQ1w_P898dHJ3_PvAnEd0qpfAN-7Cons1XeDYD9YNc6vt84za6igNrt7sMADP3WSvZVBBG5pUFEyE/s1080/IG%20banner%201%20Stay%20with%20the%20Wagons.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3POrqtI65oLOZF1RKPALyaEPbYoTXtejtPBbbwf-pnL9kRsb-uilBBwzZb4PD6sMjx_f6F0bT9J5GlAarnNpYXAwQYaGKPOaje_y48aIxsRzOM1LQ1w_P898dHJ3_PvAnEd0qpfAN-7Cons1XeDYD9YNc6vt84za6igNrt7sMADP3WSvZVBBG5pUFEyE/s320/IG%20banner%201%20Stay%20with%20the%20Wagons.png" width="320" /></a></div>Venture deep into the uncharted wilderness and crest the continental divide.</b></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Stay with the Wagons</i> is the enthralling third chapter in the Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail series. Dorcas Moon has discarded her mourning dress and yearns for freedom and independence amidst the vast frontier. But a perilous world and a commanding wagon master keep her tethered. Ultimately, it's a brutal bout of fever and ague that confine her to camp.</div><div><br /></div><div>Relentless disasters and beguiling challenges unfold in this installment. A young man is crushed beneath a wagon wheel. Dorcas' son breaks an arm, a grizzly bear attacks the wagon train, and the looming threat of attacking outlaws whips the emigrants into a worried frenzy. How many must perish before they reach the end of the trail?</div><div><br /></div><div>As chaos reigns, her troubled daughter, Rose, disappears once again, leading Dorcas on a perilous quest. Tracking Rose to a sacred site, they encounter a blind seer and a legendary leader, Chief Washakie. Rose's enchantment with Native American adornments sparks Dorcas' concern about an unexpected suitor and raises worries about Rose's age.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Stay with the Wagons </i>is bursting with action, adventure, and survival. It is a story of resilience and empowerment on the Oregon Trail.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://books2read.com/stay-with-the-wagons " target="_blank">Claim your copy</a> now and re-immerse yourself in a tale of high-stakes survival, unexpected alliances, and the indomitable spirit of Dorcas Moon.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://linktr.ee/authordavidfitzgerald " target="_blank"><br /></a></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://linktr.ee/authordavidfitzgerald " target="_blank">Connect with David</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://linktr.ee/authordavidfitzgerald " imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YVV6Qg5St9ot2PSM3A56Nmnk5Q35zVV00U7wONWOi6A7jp2ALkrSjMIN5oFkkc_pae05Kj7xbUsCRwgB_hZno-em_rKu2-tXqieMQg7ZxOgPsyGRC_GTsm-9Y_Kc0mrXBYRL8z_EiNckPu7zsObzata__2q_kD_aKmErako2HuTqNp-22zOfLTuQNxI/s320/David%20Fitz-Gerald.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>David Fitz-Gerald writes westerns and historical fiction. He is the author of twelve books, including the brand-new series, Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail set in 1850. Dave is a multiple Laramie Award, first place, best in category winner; a Blue Ribbon Chanticleerian; a member of Western Writers of America; and a member of the Historical Novel Society.</div><div><br /></div><div>Alpine landscapes and flashy horses always catch Dave’s eye and turn his head. He is also an Adirondack 46-er, which means that he has hiked to the summit of the range’s highest peaks. As a mountaineer, he’s happiest at an elevation of over four thousand feet above sea level.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave is a lifelong fan of western fiction, landscapes, movies, and music. It should be no surprise that Dave delights in placing memorable characters on treacherous trails, mountain tops, and on the backs of wild horses.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2024/02/blog-tour-stay-with-the-wagons-by-david-fitzgerald.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPr0BcSXwMaX3pIR_yP1dOW_iXreNydDLy1NGIO3_vAOxnl_URPd9w8I0iCCUxBLtYWEO5xHfWX-YB1BdnbQ767YOq7Vrm4_CR6_ujQWO2pbcqUEQvgZpNuZ6PAUAOUTn4ceZTVFy_wNfD-gg7mvz7UvsrdAlwy_XVe6lhQeEFCQhfjOYDKMKhM6JU5c/w640-h360/Stay%20with%20the%20Wagons%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-89015107853281436662024-03-17T00:00:00.002-04:002024-03-17T07:14:01.433-04:00Ruth deForest Lamb and the FDA's Chamber of Horrors<p><b>Good morning, dear readers. I have such a great guest for you today! <a href="https://lucyjanesantos.com/" target="_blank">Lucy Santos</a> has extensively researched the history of cosmetics and some of the dangerous products people have used in the quest for beauty. If you were touched by the story of the radium girls in <i><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous</a></i>, you won't want to miss this story of a woman who was working at the US Food & Drug Administration (FDA) to protect consumers from dangerous, unregulated products - like cosmetics infused with radium. I confess that I had not previously heard of Ruth deForest Lamb, so I appreciate Lucy sharing her story with us as part of the <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">Women's History Month celebration</a>.</b></p><p><b>Welcome, Lucy!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Ruth deForest Lamb and the FDA's Chamber of Horrors</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by Lucy Santos</span></b></p><p>I am a beauty historian specialising in the ways in which cosmetics intersect with science and technology. A lot of my work is around the toxicity of ingredients – I even wrote a book which examined (amongst other aspects of the elements uses) the ways in which radium was used in cosmetics. </p><p>And because of this fascination I do a lot of research into the various ingredients, beauty companies, places you can buy these products and deep dives into the ways they were marketed. </p><p>When Samantha kindly asked me to do a post for Women’s History Month I knew there was only one person I wanted to write about – so let me introduce you to Ruth deForest Lamb.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODpStebf2ZNA4EsNCxddjd-EyHXxoCK3zYIGsHUofOMTgHPpppQSIIsJo8ersbMMQuko965YczuNXfby55sUYB7Nkw-Cknlp-X5kGwcAn-ms-j4YMKeRIdPRqtUz3Wg_RtcAoFKLnri1XT2T7YNtk6z8eQ2ZPfq4LSkXN4g_vcvDLknBgNZZFf8P6STo/s358/Picture3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="287" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODpStebf2ZNA4EsNCxddjd-EyHXxoCK3zYIGsHUofOMTgHPpppQSIIsJo8ersbMMQuko965YczuNXfby55sUYB7Nkw-Cknlp-X5kGwcAn-ms-j4YMKeRIdPRqtUz3Wg_RtcAoFKLnri1XT2T7YNtk6z8eQ2ZPfq4LSkXN4g_vcvDLknBgNZZFf8P6STo/s320/Picture3.png" width="257" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div>Born in 1896 in Hallstead, Pennsylvania Ruth graduated from Vassar College and was one of the first women working in advertising – which, in the years after the First World War was an emerging industry. A bit off topic but if you haven’t read <i>Murder Must Advertise</i> by Dorothy L Sayer I highly recommend it for a flavour of what it was like to work in advertising during this period. </div><div><br /></div><div>By 1933 Ruth was working for the U.S Food and Drug Administration as their first Chief Educational Officer and one of her initial huge projects was to put together a display for the 1933 Century of Progress International Exposition, held in Chicago during 1933 and 1934.</div><div><br /></div><div>The FDA’s contribution to this massive exhibition was an exhibit of 100 products that they considered ‘dangerous, deceptive or worthless’ but had no legal authority to ban. The products encompassed dodgy medications, foods with unlabelled substitutions and cosmetics with dangerous ingredients. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was actually a huge problem at the time because, despite some progress via the 1906 Pure Food and Drug Act, the US consumer was largely unprotected and the FDA largely powerless to change the situation. Even worst cosmetics were not covered by the regulations at all. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>This name, shame and educate campaign was carried out across seventeen display boards illustrated with ‘large, vivid pictures coupled with spare, terse prose’ – detailing the problems and the effects of these unregulated products. So Othine, a cream made with ammoniated mercury which promised to lighten the skin was highlighted as was dinitrophenol, a chemical that was sold as a weight loss tool but could cause fatal blood disorders. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVHYnF1ped48ZAz8TTzn5gISlojo_9AjE66bUJ6wMOvydggnIKUEKJ-LG07U-nd9wu6Kh-jRHkVXdq1urUP5XO3V2NU3UQuaco-COB7tCVlVYQ90SO208mJ29DRrUmgtRQNdofKckaK11-XIwlmb5bEaTa-hJKhxuLyr3vw0MTi9hMluh4tNuwSYlVpw/s988/Picture4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="988" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVHYnF1ped48ZAz8TTzn5gISlojo_9AjE66bUJ6wMOvydggnIKUEKJ-LG07U-nd9wu6Kh-jRHkVXdq1urUP5XO3V2NU3UQuaco-COB7tCVlVYQ90SO208mJ29DRrUmgtRQNdofKckaK11-XIwlmb5bEaTa-hJKhxuLyr3vw0MTi9hMluh4tNuwSYlVpw/s320/Picture4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div>But two of the most shocking products were produced by the companies – Lash-Lure Laboratories, Inc of LA and Koremlu Inc of New York. Lash Lure was a synthetic aniline dye (a component of coal tar) that was designed for dying eyelashes and eyebrows. Koremlu was a hair removal product made from the toxic element Thallium.</div><div><br /></div><div>Both of these products were widely available in beauty salons and Koremlu was even sold in the biggest department stores in New York City. </div><div><br /></div><div>They had been popular products until their users started to fall ill, and it was these victims that were featured heavily in Ruth deForest Lamb’s ‘Chamber of Horrors’ exhibit in Chicago. The stories of the suffering caused by these products were particularly gruelling – especially that of Mrs Brown, a woman who had been persuaded into dying her eyelashes by a beautician and ended up with her ‘laughing blue eyes’ being ‘blinded forever.’</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHR1SEk4drzBk3yXy9gl92O6tg-II5pkGt9OqsQEWVRl50_yVxlq3ygJZwN44YeD5B20DEtYzm43JpU0qqq3OHOZKYPG1diMk83MrkBZ7BPV9vqrcAkR_MmhB1v0mfpy78BVhwqOd5gxllRdc_Xe0Ni1NK_hsnI9o3Y0LwOBGVD-8owl9KgVsfYDEq5RA/s380/Picture1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="380" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHR1SEk4drzBk3yXy9gl92O6tg-II5pkGt9OqsQEWVRl50_yVxlq3ygJZwN44YeD5B20DEtYzm43JpU0qqq3OHOZKYPG1diMk83MrkBZ7BPV9vqrcAkR_MmhB1v0mfpy78BVhwqOd5gxllRdc_Xe0Ni1NK_hsnI9o3Y0LwOBGVD-8owl9KgVsfYDEq5RA/s320/Picture1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div>Koremlu’s panel exposed Kora B Lublin, a beauty salon owner, who had begun manufacturing her hair removal cream after reading an article about how thallium acetate prevented the regrowth of hair. Ignoring the warning about the dangerous nature of the ingredient (which is a poison) Lublin had her assistants make up jars of product by hand with no controls in place to even achieve a standard dose.</div><div><br /></div><div>When users began to fall ill with thallium poisoning it was at an inconsistent rate as some batches of the cream were more dangerous than others. Hospitals throughout the US began seeing patients presenting with symptoms including paralysation of lower limbs, nausea, blindness and loosening of their hair on other parts of the body that hadn’t been treated. </div><div><br /></div><div>It were these types of products that the FDA were powerless to stop and deForest Lamb in particular felt the injustice of a law with so many loopholes and the frustration of working for a toothless regulatory organisation. By drawing attention to specific products at such a prominent event as a World’s Fair, deForest Lamb’s intention was to expose the companies that made them and, ultimately to change the laws surrounding their manufacture and sale. </div><div><br /></div><div>After the exposition finally finished on 12 November 1933 the exhibition was packed up and returned to Washington D.C where it went on display at the Department of Agriculture. Again deForest Lamb made sure that the spotlight remained on the horrors they were exposing and there was another flurry of publicity when the First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt visited it. Time magazine reported on her reaction when presented with photographs of the women blinded by Lash-Lure: ‘I cannot bear to look at them.’</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jJAXRP4veL28KZaAlycLyDWRZLWowxPtnFxV_P7RbMmS9srstHWT7My_dPTMITt-olcu-ivMB_O_901sJUZi-O7plsY3vyN0d1EEVgUMCJhQl51j9b4pVLiTG6CcjaZ0KEGMacXTNFNM4VOVxEG1geoo3J9N-DeKGqHz_tYsNY-PDXfmvmcP7SNGgz0/s390/Picture2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="380" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jJAXRP4veL28KZaAlycLyDWRZLWowxPtnFxV_P7RbMmS9srstHWT7My_dPTMITt-olcu-ivMB_O_901sJUZi-O7plsY3vyN0d1EEVgUMCJhQl51j9b4pVLiTG6CcjaZ0KEGMacXTNFNM4VOVxEG1geoo3J9N-DeKGqHz_tYsNY-PDXfmvmcP7SNGgz0/s320/Picture2.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div>A few years later deForest Lamb went on a leave of absence from the FDA and turned the exhibition into a book, <i>The American Chamber of Horrors</i>. Whilst this used all the material from the exhibit as well as other sources from the FDA’s archives she stated that she wanted to write the book as a private citizen rather than an employee as it would make the argument more powerful. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not only did she make the case for the strengthening of a law that left Government officials with ‘no real power’ to prevent tragedies caused by products currently on the market but she dedicated the book to the other organisations that were fighting for change. In effect she was advocating for a new type of consumerism – one where users were not just passive victims and officials were given the power of real regulation. </div><div><br /></div><div>It took a few more years but deForest Lamb’s advocacy and awareness raising helped to ensure the passing of the Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act (FDCA) of 1938. And whilst this wasn’t by any means perfect it was the first time that cosmetics had been regulated at a federal level and gave much more protection to consumers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Under this law Lash-Lure was taken off the market as well as action taken against other, non toxic but misleading products. For example the FDA ordered Elizabeth Arden to change the name of their ‘Skin Food’ to ‘Skin Cream’ because the ingredients were not nutrients and the company had been advertising that they would ‘furnish nourishment to the skin.’</div><div><br /></div><div>There was, however, no need to take Koremlu off the market – consumer action had already done that when users started to sue Cora Lublin. By the time she removed Koremlu from sale in 1932 she been sued for $2.5 million and closed her beauty salon shortly after.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ruth deForest Lamb left the FDA in 1942 and died in 1978.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with Lucy Santos</span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF71vvhnL-xeM_WpITNyuG8fzPhv-szdptykpFTe8NiAesNYZm_DY34sAx0N_SU-d-v2XborZjrWYRLKcURgyEDFyw-tPIauAbw_JCTMjj-pAto3vtLW82SCE-7Q3k4i800HJF_67aBWCpRwLqO9YcgXoPUHZyJ5BzcLUjUgcglAh3lmlf1svzhGn9KZs/s891/Picture5.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="606" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF71vvhnL-xeM_WpITNyuG8fzPhv-szdptykpFTe8NiAesNYZm_DY34sAx0N_SU-d-v2XborZjrWYRLKcURgyEDFyw-tPIauAbw_JCTMjj-pAto3vtLW82SCE-7Q3k4i800HJF_67aBWCpRwLqO9YcgXoPUHZyJ5BzcLUjUgcglAh3lmlf1svzhGn9KZs/s320/Picture5.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>Specialising in the late 19th and early 20th century Lucy Jane Santos is a freelance historian examining the crossroads of health, leisure and beauty with science and technology.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lucy has appeared as a contributor on TV and radio, and her historical research has been featured by History Today, BBC History Revealed, Jezebel, LitHub, New York Post, Vogue, and on the BBC2 documentary, Makeup: A Glamorous History. Her most recent project is as Creative Consultant for the documentary Obsessed With Light a film that tells the story of the performance artist Loïe Fuller.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lucy’s debut book was<i> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Half-Lives-Unlikely-History-Radium/dp/B094PPCR31/" target="_blank">Half Lives: The Unlikely History of Radium</a></i> (Icon: 2020, Pegasus: 2021). <i>Half Lives</i> was shortlisted for the BSHS Hughes Prize in 2021. Her next book, which is a history of the element uranium, will be published in 2024.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Lucy through her <a href="http://www.lucyjanesantos.com" target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://lucyjanesantos.substack.com/" target="_blank">substack</a>, or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lucyjanesantos_/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLLucJRHpNLz5r4N2W1YApxSwc9JdR54r79XNUpvhoWEDgbw5IFesTbnDWcOmaezwtzi9bqBdm5NQyiLFJsFYvdmLcWvNtn6YiQLxi4WwP7EfDR4XdB424TKfwxg2mnosyHtIj__pJBcvQIyO5Jm7ZbtxIXKSZZeBViUMO0K51oLJC54bopmXhxgQdVU/s2764/CHAIN_SANTOS%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1795" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLLucJRHpNLz5r4N2W1YApxSwc9JdR54r79XNUpvhoWEDgbw5IFesTbnDWcOmaezwtzi9bqBdm5NQyiLFJsFYvdmLcWvNtn6YiQLxi4WwP7EfDR4XdB424TKfwxg2mnosyHtIj__pJBcvQIyO5Jm7ZbtxIXKSZZeBViUMO0K51oLJC54bopmXhxgQdVU/s320/CHAIN_SANTOS%20(1).jpg" width="208" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><b>COVER REVEAL! </b>The cover for Lucy's newest book has just been revealed, so you are among the first to see the new cover art for <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chain-Reactions-Hopeful-History-Uranium/dp/1639367446" target="_blank">Chain Reactions: A Hopeful History of Uranium</a></i>. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Tracing uranium's past—and how it intersects with our understanding of other radioactive elements—Chain Reactions aims to enlighten readers and refresh our attitudes about the atomic world.</b></div><div><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chain-Reactions-Hopeful-History-Uranium/dp/1639367446/" target="_blank"><br /></a></b></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chain-Reactions-Hopeful-History-Uranium/dp/1639367446/" target="_blank">Coming in November 2024, available for pre-order now!</a></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<div style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKCdpq6z3nsicJvzZuRiXrc7G1obSCAcq-Bt5IMWIVfPGQPOahhIQ3quuQHztLlPbSceOBJ4sqvx2p9IvGmAqMKgIoSq5et1-hnY93FrHZE6mf0Pn_OyBAmVi7F36S65DtwuV8xSXdcEipc2UPwJx3_LhIHifnzBe4Hnkey3rTS9rTXws3yTjZ9kcLu4/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKCdpq6z3nsicJvzZuRiXrc7G1obSCAcq-Bt5IMWIVfPGQPOahhIQ3quuQHztLlPbSceOBJ4sqvx2p9IvGmAqMKgIoSq5et1-hnY93FrHZE6mf0Pn_OyBAmVi7F36S65DtwuV8xSXdcEipc2UPwJx3_LhIHifnzBe4Hnkey3rTS9rTXws3yTjZ9kcLu4/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />We're having a fantastic <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">celebration of Women's History Month! </a></div><div style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Join me on your preferred social media to make sure you don't miss a thing!</div><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-40480441438241693792024-03-15T00:00:00.001-04:002024-03-15T00:00:00.147-04:00Friendships in the Early Republic: Lafayette and Eleanor Custis Lewis<p><b>I hope everyone is enjoying <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">Women's History Month</a>! Today, another wonderful guest joins me with a glimpse of a friendship you might not have heard too much about. I love these bits of history that give us a peek into the personal lives of historical figures and help them feel "real" to us. If you enjoy learning about Lafayette, you'll want to pick up a copy of <a href="http://elizabethmreese.com" target="_blank">Elizabeth Reese</a>'s new book, <i><a href="http://elizabethmreese.com" target="_blank">Marquis de Lafayette Returns</a></i> for more stories of his American travels and relationships.</b></p><p><b>Welcome, Elizabeth!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD1qs9ndjS-uJjQx-OQDMJaE4x65L35nGgM_EolDzC5Q9d143VAt6Aa2d6a0_G3pistIc_T5_ZR7Dvh-uxrIwQ7LHCnItpiMTZQT5vxbyaWrp7JHqS66zSHyHemAOvmbU4OzZgPZEyeSYsH85bur-rL9uRZl2JQiTjPZubzg8E79iE-QWDi-Hucvs75U/s1080/Lafayette%20Custis%20Lewis.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD1qs9ndjS-uJjQx-OQDMJaE4x65L35nGgM_EolDzC5Q9d143VAt6Aa2d6a0_G3pistIc_T5_ZR7Dvh-uxrIwQ7LHCnItpiMTZQT5vxbyaWrp7JHqS66zSHyHemAOvmbU4OzZgPZEyeSYsH85bur-rL9uRZl2JQiTjPZubzg8E79iE-QWDi-Hucvs75U/w640-h640/Lafayette%20Custis%20Lewis.png" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Friendships in the Early Republic: Lafayette and Eleanor Custis Lewis</h1><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Elizabeth Reese</b></span></p><p><br /></p><p>Throughout his tour of America in 1824-1825, the Marquis de Lafayette’s visits with important men were thoroughly documented. Newspaper accounts, correspondence, and private journals list Lafayette’s name alongside those of the most powerful men in the country. Less has been said about Lafayette’s friendships with women during his trip. Women not only played a major role in Lafayette’s tour by organizing social gatherings and welcome ceremonies, but Lafayette’s convivial personality earned him the friendships of many women throughout his life.</p><p>Although George Washington had died in December 1799, Lafayette remained close with the first president’s extended family. The Custis children, Martha Washington’s grandchildren from her first marriage, were an almost constant presence in Washington social circles during Lafayette’s National Tour. Although Eliza Custis Law, Martha “Patty” Custis Peter, Eleanor “Nelly” Custis Lewis, and George Washington Parke Custis were not the heirs to Washington’s estate, they were seen as the heirs to his legacy and responsible for the preservation of his memory.</p><p>In 1784, Lafayette had previously spent two weeks with Washington and his extended family, where he had the opportunity to get to know the young Custis children. When Lafayette sent his son to live at Mount Vernon during the terror of the French Revolution, the friendship between the families was extended into the next generation. Lafayette and the Custises continued to write to each other after Washington died, and during Frenchman’s visit in the Washington, D.C. region, he spent the majority of his spare time with them.</p><p>All four children frequently welcomed Lafayette as a guest in their respective homes and attended gatherings with him, but the relationship between Lafayette and Nelly was one of particular fondness. Nelly Custis Lewis had been raised at Mount Vernon and was said to be the favorite of her grandparents. She moved with the Washingtons to New York and Philadelphia during the presidency and married George Washington’s nephew, Lawrence Lewis in 1799. As George and Martha had no biological children of their own, the marriage of Lawrence and Nelly joined the Custis and Washington families together.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwo8oQL7ZbuHkulpg52aoQjxW4lqmpv1AycQpqkf-hgWceKhUTJUVO_i-KA0UDKr6JBMb-mdkMN-pVYOSVgIBAFFNYL1s47R9YmgGqJwV_m-lkUP3tOja1QR5mf4Yd7IyTEMVr13-Cx51HpAv8icc2ZD51YaDcLfzhWREZ8H4UEl_MnYcJzMyae1c-Zw/s1000/714RhRDgJCL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwo8oQL7ZbuHkulpg52aoQjxW4lqmpv1AycQpqkf-hgWceKhUTJUVO_i-KA0UDKr6JBMb-mdkMN-pVYOSVgIBAFFNYL1s47R9YmgGqJwV_m-lkUP3tOja1QR5mf4Yd7IyTEMVr13-Cx51HpAv8icc2ZD51YaDcLfzhWREZ8H4UEl_MnYcJzMyae1c-Zw/w400-h266/714RhRDgJCL.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Nelly was among the crowd of 50,000 citizens waiting to greet Lafayette when he arrived in New York in August 1824. The two had an emotional reunion before spending time together in the city, dining and enjoying theater. Nelly relished in Lafayette’s affection, viewing him as an extension of the step-grandfather she had loved. In October 1824, Nelly was likely present when Lafayette visited Mount Vernon to pay his respects to the deceased Washington.<p></p><p>It was not until December 1824 that Nelly would have the honor of hosting Lafayette at her home, Woodlawn, and she was thrilled to have the opportunity to have the Guest of the Nation all to herself. Throughout the tour, Lafayette had spent much time with his friend Frances Wright, a free-thinking feminist writer who was vocal on issues of abolition. Nelly, who viewed Wright as a sort of social nemesis, did not look to the friendship with much kindness. Perhaps she was intimidated by Wright’s views, which were far more progressive than the social structure of the Virginia plantation class Nelly was raised in. Regardless, Lafayette’s visit to Woodlawn on the cusp of the Christmastide season was a pleasant one for Nelly and her family. Nelly wrote to her friend Elizabeth Bordley Gibson of her joy in having the opportunity to have Lafayette under her roof, stating: “I felt as if my own great adopted Father was in my house.” After the four days came to a close, Nelly presented Lafayette and his son with several parting gifts including relics of Washington, Martha Washington’s recipe for lip balm, and several poems.</p><p>In September 1825, as Lafayette boarded the steamboat which would carry him down the Potomac to the <i>Brandywine</i>, the frigate that would take him back to France, Nelly was noted as being by his side to see him off. Alongside elected officials and other important men, Lafayette and Nelly bade their final farewells to each other.</p><p>The time Lafayette spent with Nelly during his tour was a physical reminder of her relationship with Washington. As Lafayette’s boat sailed into the horizon, the finality of his visit sunk in; Washington was gone, Lafayette was heading back to France, and the Americans like Nelly were left to chart the course of the nation on their own.</p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Marquis-Lafayette-Returns-Americas-National/dp/146715587X/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaEsCTG5wstzS_ar_SYMMlFEo5rxVOfHMm-VX-N2afdu5rF2h0gVCeaX99xyhyYihtiSA7OovienGiyFVA2mWb7gWt9UURLM41T0MrqAgwuHzPwzjsve2EawPUMBeNh_tgF05NwYOYwbrOeqq599OI7EXZ5uUCaapqIEYbZMjTm1t1WjLLhK7thq8qNI/s320/9781467155878.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Read Marquis de Lafayette Returns</span></b><p></p><p></p><br />Walk in the footsteps of the Marquis de Lafayette as he makes a final trip through the young United States. Against the backdrop of a tumultuous election, a beloved hero of the American Revolution returned to America for the first time in forty years. From August 1824 to September 1825, the Marquis de Lafayette traveled throughout the United States, welcomed by thousands of admirers at each stop along the way. Although the tour brought him to each state in the Union, the majority of his time was spent in Washington, D.C., Virginia, and Maryland. Public historian Elizabeth Reese traces Lafayette's route throughout the National Capital Region, highlighting the locations and people the famous General held closest to his heart.<p></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Marquis-Lafayette-Returns-Americas-National/dp/146715587X/" target="_blank">Available on Amazon</a></span></b></p><p><br /></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjVb94f4W9ysBcHgr9aWFCwasrLIE8qCFLBOhVqC7BmRSX4XYAx88dQ4hAKy_A-b534qa74qk3JuJYUpC_Vnc_0t-aE4b7XGxo6ndeVnTXmhEkUuVF0xySvTuxtM38NaFDapp7zDvxO17g_ux2W3LQeYhcriKDtgmzTCxNnMVAm0gyTxQrcA2mWKsE5g/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjVb94f4W9ysBcHgr9aWFCwasrLIE8qCFLBOhVqC7BmRSX4XYAx88dQ4hAKy_A-b534qa74qk3JuJYUpC_Vnc_0t-aE4b7XGxo6ndeVnTXmhEkUuVF0xySvTuxtM38NaFDapp7zDvxO17g_ux2W3LQeYhcriKDtgmzTCxNnMVAm0gyTxQrcA2mWKsE5g/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Don't miss the rest of my <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">celebration of Women's History Month</a>! </div><div><br /></div><div>Join me on your preferred social media to make sure you don't miss a thing!</div><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-82945970113161291172024-03-12T00:00:00.004-04:002024-03-12T00:00:00.133-04:00Women of the Wars of the Roses<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eDFkSYF9iyewaFShkhyphenhyphenJ6gInehephypB0y59p6FkRgQCLV_VzvGYETAUwrQdTYX-bRIX-pMiuTGqGPtRh-1xn4NOvlJv_nLm8QFgE2gz6frquAY4CO9_8v7ES4Pxw6BvTNP_0oCK3imaJJMnj8TmBMGxZovuMGA-CgxdAu8DLWjofG7ChaFmVTUhS6w/s1500/women%20wotr.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="1500" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eDFkSYF9iyewaFShkhyphenhyphenJ6gInehephypB0y59p6FkRgQCLV_VzvGYETAUwrQdTYX-bRIX-pMiuTGqGPtRh-1xn4NOvlJv_nLm8QFgE2gz6frquAY4CO9_8v7ES4Pxw6BvTNP_0oCK3imaJJMnj8TmBMGxZovuMGA-CgxdAu8DLWjofG7ChaFmVTUhS6w/w640-h214/women%20wotr.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><b>I know my readers will be thrilled with today's <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">Women's History Month</a> guest! Judith Arnopp joins us with a fantastic post about women of the Wars of the Roses, including Elizabeth of York, who is near and dear to my heart. Judith has written prolifically about this era, so <a href="http://www.judithmarnopp.com" target="_blank">check out her published works</a>!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Women of the Wars of the Roses</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by Judith Arnopp</span></b></p><p>For the last four years I have been writing a trilogy from the perspective of Henry VIII, but my first love is giving a voice to medieval and Tudor women. I have written fifteen novels that trace events through the eyes of women and give voice to those who have been unheard for centuries. When you consider that females make up half the population, their experiences should be allowed to impact on the traditional record. In the past, they have been written off as inconsequential, but I’d dare you to tell that to Margaret Beaufort.</p><p>Margaret stands shoulder to shoulder with the most influential men of her time. Like her or not, her actions impacted on the world and they still do. Had Margaret not fought to restore her son, Henry VII’s rights and enabled him to take the crown of England, we’d have had no Henry VIII, no restoration, no Church of England. Hurrah, I hear some of you cry but whatever your religious persuasion, nobody can claim that Margaret made no difference.</p><p>I studied Margaret in depth for years while I wrote<i> The Beaufort Chronicle</i>, a trilogy tracing her life from the nursery to the grave, and I found nothing to account for the negative manner in which she is viewed today. She was pious, determined, charitable, kind and deeply mourned on her passing. Today however, largely due to negative portrayals on television and fiction, she is despised by many. In these enlightened days female strength is usually applauded, but in Margaret’s case, it seems not. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyuy5fYp3kdKLdY8660lrTgzkEDA0Qad6-A7ynaZM5YYBAkncirepnesXwmK5puyqoOCgD1hUtah8RB6FItuekQs3-Lu6gVr1Dnv5nb4v7pOLb4pcEhr9XmV1k6XkeYXOTWHFtZ1WM4VuxeZATnxuthlOBwNgXVWaMHPWIecD9kT9GTWEy7twvApfGaA/s770/wor%20banner%20dow.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="770" height="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyuy5fYp3kdKLdY8660lrTgzkEDA0Qad6-A7ynaZM5YYBAkncirepnesXwmK5puyqoOCgD1hUtah8RB6FItuekQs3-Lu6gVr1Dnv5nb4v7pOLb4pcEhr9XmV1k6XkeYXOTWHFtZ1WM4VuxeZATnxuthlOBwNgXVWaMHPWIecD9kT9GTWEy7twvApfGaA/w400-h104/wor%20banner%20dow.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />Margaret is often blamed for the disappearance of the princes from the Tower, but there is nothing in the record to prove it; there are plenty of other candidates who could be held equally as culpable. Unauthorised entry to the Tower was just not possible; whatever the fate of the boys, it must have been carried out with either the knowledge of the king or the Constable of the Tower. <p></p><p>When the war of the roses began, Margaret was a small insignificant child, yet she emerged as the ultimate victor – it never ceases to amaze me that this fact is uncelebrated. Perhaps it isn’t due to her gender at all, perhaps it is an age thing. Her portrait shows an old nun-like figure; she is praying, her hands clasped, her expression pious – she does not provide material for a romantic heroine and so she is defamed instead. We should not overlook the fact that as the victor in the conflict, Margaret had some control over contemporary public opinion, but even the records from overseas reveal nothing of detriment.</p><p>There are parallels between Margaret Beaufort and the historical figure I am currently working on, Marguerite of Anjou. The contemporary record holds plenty of negative criticism of her. Like Margaret Beaufort, she too fought for the rights of her son, but Marguerite emerged a failure from the struggles. When York assumed control of King Henry VI and ultimately took the throne, Marguerite, a dispossessed queen, did not retire genteelly from the battle – instead she fought tooth and nail for the sake of her son – like a ‘she-wolf’ according to Shakespeare. But I have to ask myself if I would not do the same for my sons. </p><p>Her surviving letters are evidence that she did indeed fulfil her duties as queen, supporting her household, responding to requests for help, managing her estates, arranging diplomatic marriages and supporting religious houses. In 1448 she was active in founding Queens’ College, Cambridge. Yet even from the early days she was criticised for failing to provide an heir (no mention that the fault might not lie with her) yet once she gave birth to a strong son, York spread propaganda that the king was not the father.</p><p>Attrocities have been laid at Marguerite’s door, atrocities that were not ordered or carried out by Marguerite personally but committed by the men under her control. Since she was not even present, the most she can be accused of is losing control of her army. We hear much about the beheading and subsequent mock crowning of Richard of York and his son Edmund before their heads were raised on the city of York’s Micklegate bar, or Lancaster’s pillaging and looting of towns, yet the many offences York committed are often overlooked. </p><p>The war of the roses was a military mess, with crimes and carnage on both sides and it is impossible to choose which side was justified. We still tend to view the war as a man’s game, but women were involved. Marguerite of Anjou, Cecily Neville, Anne Beauchamp, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, Elizabeth Woodville, Margaret Beauchamp, Margaret Beaufort, Anne and Isabel Neville, Elizabeth of York; they didn’t sit at home knitting while their husbands fought a bloody war. They may not have wielded a sword, but they were there, intriguing, negotiating, brokering peace deals, protecting their sons, guarding their property and in some cases leading armies. I never take sides in the war of the roses, but I enjoy the spectacle and I have learned that if the men fighting these battles were lions, then the women were tigers.</p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with Judith</span></b></p><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24jykChyR12LDkcA361hKClWzIR0dDhHZrhVFUvcmEqGXupp_A6GjVtYlqi7cfVQNSfThcSn74KhL_lCqJDUhduMA0oL5-CROAsAXgmaaENAXH2NVFSUMUYZml8p1e2AXUXSVB-U0n366U5AjH76BdhFkhUgrcJ_svuIkdFMdb9_SovtiFeSv4rB-uBo/s2400/reign%20of.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24jykChyR12LDkcA361hKClWzIR0dDhHZrhVFUvcmEqGXupp_A6GjVtYlqi7cfVQNSfThcSn74KhL_lCqJDUhduMA0oL5-CROAsAXgmaaENAXH2NVFSUMUYZml8p1e2AXUXSVB-U0n366U5AjH76BdhFkhUgrcJ_svuIkdFMdb9_SovtiFeSv4rB-uBo/s320/reign%20of.png" width="320" /></a></div>Award winning historical fiction author, Judith Arnopp, holds a Batchelor’s degree in English/Creative writing and a Masters in Medieval Studies. She lives on the coast of West Wales where she writes both fiction and non-fiction. She is best known for her novels set in the Medieval and Tudor period, focussing on the perspective of historical women and more recently from the perspective of Henry VIII himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Judith is also a founder member of a re-enactment group called The Fyne Companye of Cambria which is when she began to experiment with sewing historical garments. She now makes clothes and accessories both for the group and others. She is not a professionally trained sewer but through trial, error and determination has learned how to make authentic looking, if not strictly historically accurate clothing. Her non-fiction book about Tudor clothing<i> How to Dress Like a Tudor </i>was published by Pen and Sword in 2023.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Judith on her <a href="http://www.judithmarnopp.com" target="_blank">website</a> or <a href="http://www.juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">blog</a>, and <a href="http://author.to/juditharnoppbooks" target="_blank">find her books here</a>!</div><div><br /></div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidLlsHpW1g5IrfqJeSitoTYuDacwyIX3v8HqXEYIeoEbXWCvtzfv52NBmgqgexceuv3m6cBsHzjphsaRetwKO9twk7WlZBmhCznEk1GHMkquKjBrBELoa0qSczIuYbEWcwKPY5xyiRMUCFaWiiBNdqokU2JVLqhItZgkCpIl8k4fqyLbrnm4WHZobF0o/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidLlsHpW1g5IrfqJeSitoTYuDacwyIX3v8HqXEYIeoEbXWCvtzfv52NBmgqgexceuv3m6cBsHzjphsaRetwKO9twk7WlZBmhCznEk1GHMkquKjBrBELoa0qSczIuYbEWcwKPY5xyiRMUCFaWiiBNdqokU2JVLqhItZgkCpIl8k4fqyLbrnm4WHZobF0o/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />We're having a fantastic <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">celebration of Women's History Month! </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Join me on your preferred social media to make sure you don't miss a thing!</div><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-83128093907062654192024-03-08T00:00:00.008-05:002024-03-08T00:00:00.185-05:00Catharine Littlefield Greene: A Revolutionary Life<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2THLhQ7YeB7aN_59SF_oFhV0y3ELjF1E4wC_TGWmUeZsVDh3yHacMblwEuPcGofQ5V8YdJpidMXBjsvfWkXtC_RTz3bMBV6YWVWOxgjbX5_biYa845wpPOlHzPrB_Olo9x_4Ta4fgJXwwzf8UaTrQBRx9Qlih_dSHCcdGARBKN8uPBwVPS_SUMgMnvM/s6912/Caty%20Greene%20blog%20banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="6912" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2THLhQ7YeB7aN_59SF_oFhV0y3ELjF1E4wC_TGWmUeZsVDh3yHacMblwEuPcGofQ5V8YdJpidMXBjsvfWkXtC_RTz3bMBV6YWVWOxgjbX5_biYa845wpPOlHzPrB_Olo9x_4Ta4fgJXwwzf8UaTrQBRx9Qlih_dSHCcdGARBKN8uPBwVPS_SUMgMnvM/w640-h320/Caty%20Greene%20blog%20banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b>As my dear readers know, women of the American Revolution era have a big place in my heart, so I am pleased to have Salina Baker join us on the blog today with some brilliant insight into the life of Catharine Littlefield Greene, wife of General Nathanael Greene. Like Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, and countless others, Catharine saw her life and her marriage transformed by war.</b><p></p><p><b>Welcome, Salina! Thanks for celebrating <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">Women's History Month</a> with us!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Catharine Littlefield Greene: A Revolutionary Life</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by Salina Baker</span></b></p><p>Catharine Littlefield Greene was a product of the feminine sphere of women during the colonial period. Marriage was considered a critical event in the life of the early American woman. It raised her status socially but it also moved her from dependency on her family to dependency on her husband. When she married Nathanael Greene, a former Quaker and iron forage owner with a limp, asthma, a smallpox scar on his right eye and who hailed from a fairly well-to-do family, she believed that she would be settling down to a life of domestic tranquility. But as we shall see, things were different for Caty. An American Revolution was on the horizon and her husband’s direct and important influence in that revolution changed her domestic circumstances.</p><p>Convivial and beautiful with few women friends, poorly trained in domestic skills, and without her own home to settle down in, Caty found her own path that often led to history’s criticisms of her that may have been based in jealousies, misunderstandings, and Caty’s own struggle to be a part of the social whirl that accompanied the officers’ corps during the Revolutionary War. Caty Greene, unlike many of her colonial sisters, was not freed by the American Revolution. Only a personal tragedy could free a woman who defied the narrow perception of acceptable behavior.</p><p>Note: Caty burned all her letters to Nathanael therefore their relationship was interpreted through Nathanael’s letters and responses to her.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgCLP6cxCbU-wP-t7sCcmWHVVsxbOgI4IHVyhWoJClrIdXSqwr_29_Za6JJwpPV4uq5bhvU1cbJrJsnz8_euwmK2Fq0kg43T5HtIMGinFHLobBPT7R84dPSeEeuSZJGQNRfGUIGXv3cYqrT_vJingDdiPb8FrRAzb-anv_Aq1ztsFmj05J6PcXKV4rGQ/s378/Picture1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgCLP6cxCbU-wP-t7sCcmWHVVsxbOgI4IHVyhWoJClrIdXSqwr_29_Za6JJwpPV4uq5bhvU1cbJrJsnz8_euwmK2Fq0kg43T5HtIMGinFHLobBPT7R84dPSeEeuSZJGQNRfGUIGXv3cYqrT_vJingDdiPb8FrRAzb-anv_Aq1ztsFmj05J6PcXKV4rGQ/s320/Picture1.jpg" width="252" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Catharine Littlefield Greene
(Miller) circa 1809 artist unknown. Caty was mortified when she saw this
painting of her.<o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table>May 1761, six-year-old Caty Littlefield watched her mother’s burial on Block Island off the coast of Rhode Island, an isolated place where her ancestors had lived since the 1660’s free from Massachusetts dogma, formal social rules, a hurried sense of time, and organized religion and schooling. Two years later, Caty was taken in by her namesake, her mother’s sister Catharine Ray Greene, a dark-haired violet-eyed beauty who Caty resembled. Aunt Catharine had once had a relationship with Benjamin Franklin who wanted more than the platonic handholding she was willing to offer. Now, she was married to William Greene, Jr. a Rhode Island politician who was distantly related to Nathanael Greene.<br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_JmujuCdKEDVbfAHK50Of6Yn1w7TZuWERUpGv1BZmvL8ya6TN6wjJ72RLyFmDtr8O6w4gQAdnQZ0XOG_UYbfFMxXRJdLrQlJ4K2D99AyXyB_pwhDY3ujMYNYMIrGYooWgDs3-yJXOPDgNyYFQC_wUpVXQ2UIRBM8Z03YqC1BtxOhgtk-COGszKFmbRI/s380/Picture2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="309" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_JmujuCdKEDVbfAHK50Of6Yn1w7TZuWERUpGv1BZmvL8ya6TN6wjJ72RLyFmDtr8O6w4gQAdnQZ0XOG_UYbfFMxXRJdLrQlJ4K2D99AyXyB_pwhDY3ujMYNYMIrGYooWgDs3-yJXOPDgNyYFQC_wUpVXQ2UIRBM8Z03YqC1BtxOhgtk-COGszKFmbRI/s320/Picture2.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">General
Nathanael Greene. Painted by Charles Willson Peale 1783<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Nathanael was a frequent visitor to the house in East Greenwich. Lacking a formal education as she did, the Caty he met there was comfortable in the society of men and her “power of fascination was absolutely irresistible.” She was born on February 17, 1755, thirteen years younger than her future husband. Nathanael and Caty wed on July 20, 1774. They settled into Spell Hall his home in Coventry, Rhode Island, but those early days of tranquility were short lived.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2H-6kr_pcD4E29xCsJxeFgqk4dfvaBLWH7vnwzejXREa1MDtM43xZy5w97n_NPRO47Anbtdj211WPDFmm6nlMYXxOMTOtki_J-tdQee2wsW7kbQd-ue6ZDPLrngtuftJiIzyJnY1nu6L71A4hYjhT1jexRoLnD-_xSryjH8mp2lca5bhsHNkoT90s3bU/s477/Picture3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="477" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2H-6kr_pcD4E29xCsJxeFgqk4dfvaBLWH7vnwzejXREa1MDtM43xZy5w97n_NPRO47Anbtdj211WPDFmm6nlMYXxOMTOtki_J-tdQee2wsW7kbQd-ue6ZDPLrngtuftJiIzyJnY1nu6L71A4hYjhT1jexRoLnD-_xSryjH8mp2lca5bhsHNkoT90s3bU/s320/Picture3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Spell Hall, the Greene family homestead
in Coventry, Rhode Island today.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The events in Massachusetts on April 19, 1775 when the British fired on civilians in Lexington and Concord changed all that. Nathanael, a private in the Kentish Guards a Rhode Island militia company, left to attend the siege of Boston. His militia company was sent home initially. Rhode Island then formed the Army of Observation. Nathanael had previously been denied officer status due to his limp that “was a blemish to the company.” Suddenly, the man the Kentish Guards considered to be a blemish incapable of cutting a physically shining figure was a brigadier general. He went home and showed Caty his commission. He and his men were sent to Roxbury, Massachusetts where they settled in with the Provincial Army.</p><p>General George Washington arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts on July 2, 1775. The Continental Congress had appointed him commander-in-chief of the newly formed Continental Army of which the Provincial Army became a part. Washington saw in Nathanael Greene a man who loved his country, cared about his troops, was a strict disciplinarian, and an active soldier. Within the year, Nathanael was a major general in the Continental Army. Caty was suddenly thrust into the role of a major general’s wife.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9Q1H0SRUFkwOnEA9UfM89tsDeJASmenat5j1qhlG0OnTYQ4XmUhfhZswJm-sPv_nfjHA6_4R0erLXsfyjI_HfAr5fIw4Fbzzr64lAe-ObZOYsGo2Hi81peecH2Tz15DNHhHRhXfkQOcaBSAZDx3jCXgJl4KHW4Jb3eESl7A8JpyIH_cugTEBqIZAP0c/s315/Picture4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="315" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9Q1H0SRUFkwOnEA9UfM89tsDeJASmenat5j1qhlG0OnTYQ4XmUhfhZswJm-sPv_nfjHA6_4R0erLXsfyjI_HfAr5fIw4Fbzzr64lAe-ObZOYsGo2Hi81peecH2Tz15DNHhHRhXfkQOcaBSAZDx3jCXgJl4KHW4Jb3eESl7A8JpyIH_cugTEBqIZAP0c/s1600/Picture4.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A whimsical drawing of Nathanael and
Catharine Greene. Artist unknown.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>She was determined to spend time with her husband at camp no matter where that was. Pregnant with their first child a son they named George Washington Greene, she initially traveled to Nathanael’s headquarters west of Boston in 1775. When she returned to Coventry, her lack of domestic skills, fear for Nathanael’s safety and pregnancy led to personal anxieties. She squabbled with her female in-laws who lived in her household in Coventry and those living in Nathanael’s childhood home in Potowomut.</div><div><br /></div><div>Caty visited her husband at his headquarters as often as possible, with or without her children. As a general’s wife, she was naturally made the center of attention. She became close friends with Martha Washington and Lucy Knox. Her vivacious behavior elicited a spontaneous response from admiring gentlemen. She listened with genuine interest to stories told by men like General Israel Putnam. Young aides became smitten with her looks and playfulness, and Nathanael was delighted by their admiration. Even General Washington asked that she come to camp for her convivial nature brightened the hardest of winters. During an officers’ party in February 1780 at the Morristown, New Jersey encampment, Caty danced with General Washington for three hours straight without sitting down. Nathanael commented that they had “a pretty little frisk.”</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCiyGgx4VyINCV5etaNUhQg4Cda-fHBbE7muWTrDy_B1vN-G3zjsOWpbxR5-kSdD-BUb1aNsgD_XJ8Pqfbvj003nNfL6Azu1dHA4LoTqZl4ctIBKyRW-zNkT_JmbsS8PKvicqZNGTZqhzV0KLjIOiD3kMeXlz74qTwEKq3U0JdvQotmjXIXE9r0cbg2s/s441/Picture5.png"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="441" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCiyGgx4VyINCV5etaNUhQg4Cda-fHBbE7muWTrDy_B1vN-G3zjsOWpbxR5-kSdD-BUb1aNsgD_XJ8Pqfbvj003nNfL6Azu1dHA4LoTqZl4ctIBKyRW-zNkT_JmbsS8PKvicqZNGTZqhzV0KLjIOiD3kMeXlz74qTwEKq3U0JdvQotmjXIXE9r0cbg2s/s320/Picture5.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><p>In late spring 1776, whispers about Caty’s behavior circulated among her family members. In the winter of 1777, although they were very much in love, jealousies and insecurities surfaced between Caty and Nathanael. His admiration for Lady Stirling and Kitty, General Lord Alexander Stirling’s wife and daughter, and his reminder to watch her spelling when writing to the scholarly Lucy Knox lured Caty’s doubts about how much Nathanael loved her. His subsequent letters were an oxymoron of adoration or designed to make her jealous especially after he heard about the many parties Caty attended in Rhode Island:</p><p><i>“In the neighborhood of my quarters there are several sweet pretty Quaker girls. If the spirit should move and love invite who can be accountable for the consequences?” </i></p><p>Yet many times he soothed her fears:</p><p><i>“Let me ask you soberly whether you estimate yourself below either of these ladies. You will answer me no, if you speak as you think. I declare upon my sacred honor I think they possess far less accomplishments than you, and as much as I respect them as friends, I should never be with them in a more intimate connection. I will venture to say there is no mortal more happy in a wife than myself.” </i></p><p>Leaving her children with in-laws, Caty arrived in Valley Forge in 1778 where she met men like the Marquis de Lafayette, Baron von Steuben, and Alexander Hamilton while her jealousy simmered over the Stirling ladies. It was here she met General Anthony Wayne. An incurable ladies man, his wife never came to camp. Caty was stimulated by the company of this charming man. The whispered gossip began yet Nathanael remained unconcerned.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzofFKD9ysBIac_jcwut7_hpYt0sXkHvFhes072KjYuesnFfhbLXMCYPRPepxfOYg4V6UskHJ7HFJwBOoKsPOMZcNvDZbHRWXgZQ5HJvIoeD-S4HfVuztvGD2RXP_JqPYRd6p3KD1Nym3m1YJdS5GulCP6VJBn7JBVL0IgqelNkSEcz4Y2f2COLzxMb8A/s352/Picture6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzofFKD9ysBIac_jcwut7_hpYt0sXkHvFhes072KjYuesnFfhbLXMCYPRPepxfOYg4V6UskHJ7HFJwBOoKsPOMZcNvDZbHRWXgZQ5HJvIoeD-S4HfVuztvGD2RXP_JqPYRd6p3KD1Nym3m1YJdS5GulCP6VJBn7JBVL0IgqelNkSEcz4Y2f2COLzxMb8A/s320/Picture6.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">General Anthony Wayne<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>By the summer of 1780, she was back in Coventry. Nathanael’s new post was uncertain. Then, he was sent off to command the Southern Army to replace the disgraced General Horatio Gates. The Greene’s had no cash; only land in Rhode Island. While Nathanael bore the horrors of the Southern Campaign, forbidding Caty to join him, she was enjoying the social life in Newport among French soldiers.</div><div><br /></div><div>After the British surrender in Yorktown, Virginia in October 1781, she traveled to South Carolina to join Nathanael at his headquarters near Charleston. She witnessed the devastation Nathanael had warned her of. After a twenty-three month separation, she found her husband much changed and worn down from the war and debt. Only land grants for his service in the Southern campaign stood between their family and utter financial ruin—Mulberry Grove plantation and holdings on Cumberland Island off the coast of Georgia. Anthony Wayne was granted the plantation adjacent to Mulberry Grove.</div><div><br /></div><div>In 1785, Caty gave birth to their sixth child, Catharine. The infant died of whooping cough. Caty lay despondent for weeks. Nathanael hired a tutor for the children, a twenty-one year old graduate of Yale, Phineas Miller. The family moved to Mulberry Grove in November. Caty was pregnant again. Tragically in April 1786, she fell and gave birth to a premature daughter who died soon after.</div><div><br /></div><div>By then, the Mulberry Grove plantation was thriving. The Greenes had a promising new start which came to an abrupt end on June 19, 1786, when Nathanael died of sunstroke at age 43. Caty soon learned the worst. Her husband died before he had made the barest beginning toward paying off the huge debts he owed to his creditors after borrowing money to equip his Southern Army. She would have to make a claim of indemnity to the government for reimbursement.</div><div><br /></div><div>She poured her heart out to Jeremiah Wadsworth, one of Nathanael’s business partners and a man she had been attracted to for years. Wadsworth was married and had past indiscretions. Jealousy ignited between Miller and Wadsworth for Caty’s affections and Wadsworth’s support in settling her estate in Congress began to wane.</div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gFyLsU4jR37iMtq64y68huCObzWyzfiJdqRxU0DQBks4tw1N5Z22J3DP3G4lR66p5xsLpnGk7J5CRB2Ipi_zBLObzmcitIuKeVYUEmnXxGoR1w65TX3zxrNH9tGdOqUVCmNgmdHATh4AEZp7UoWOKcyLA-iJu7QCmoi7LcW2rdJcu6PPyRvXclMIj9s/s370/Picture7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="287" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gFyLsU4jR37iMtq64y68huCObzWyzfiJdqRxU0DQBks4tw1N5Z22J3DP3G4lR66p5xsLpnGk7J5CRB2Ipi_zBLObzmcitIuKeVYUEmnXxGoR1w65TX3zxrNH9tGdOqUVCmNgmdHATh4AEZp7UoWOKcyLA-iJu7QCmoi7LcW2rdJcu6PPyRvXclMIj9s/s320/Picture7.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jeremiah Wadsworth and his son
Daniel. Painted by John Trumbull 1784.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><div>In 1791, she stood before Congress with her indemnity claim that Alexander Hamilton had helped her prepare. Anthony Wayne held a seat in Congress and fought furiously for her settlement. On April 27, she was awarded $47,000 and for the first time since the war, her family was solvent. Soon after, Wayne disappeared from her life. He went west to join the military there. He died of complications from gout on December 15, 1796 during a return trip to Pennsylvania from a military post in Detroit.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time, Caty and Phineas Miller had drawn up a legal agreement concerning their relationship and prospective marriage. All five of her children were living at Mulberry Grove, but her oldest child, George, drowned in 1793 soon after coming home from France where he was attending school. In his late teens, George’s body was found on the banks of the Savannah River near Mulberry Grove. His body was taken down the river to the colonial cemetery in Savannah and was placed in the vault beside that of his father’s.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enter Eli Whitney, a graduate of Yale who came south to accept a teaching position. Caty invited Eli to live in her home so he could read law and work on his new cotton gin invention. Phineas and Eli formed a business partnership with Caty as a silent backer to finance Whitney’s cotton gin invention. However, the venture needed more capital than Caty could provide. Caty and Phineas invested in a land scheme—the Yazoo Company. The company collapsed and Caty once again faced poverty. She married Phineas later that year much to Eli’s chagrin for he was in love with her.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1Ys6x85GPHFSoYjytr0h5su2DhFtqv7J8WICYWHaYqhTPMnA7NU9RhacLq1zQXKfxiQR445T9F3wq_Mv-Q66c3OOlivq8STJO-OOvIiP4IB6QiUWpVb39xhL_4fyu7smFk2c9dzAmOVNm1wmtobFF1tmCt7VRXFOEZwArmFF4XwvTbnR0GmrIyB-hDE/s377/Picture8.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="309" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1Ys6x85GPHFSoYjytr0h5su2DhFtqv7J8WICYWHaYqhTPMnA7NU9RhacLq1zQXKfxiQR445T9F3wq_Mv-Q66c3OOlivq8STJO-OOvIiP4IB6QiUWpVb39xhL_4fyu7smFk2c9dzAmOVNm1wmtobFF1tmCt7VRXFOEZwArmFF4XwvTbnR0GmrIyB-hDE/s320/Picture8.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eli Whitney<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>In 1800, Mulberry Grove was sold and the family moved to Cumberland Island at Dungeness where Nathanael, fourteen years before, had begun construction of his family’s future home. The island yielded everything the family needed to survive. Three years later at age thirty-nine, the gentle and faithful Phineas died of blood poisoning after pricking his finger on a thorn.</div><div><br /></div><div>Caty was faced with selling Phineas’ part of the Miller estate which was tied up in his company with Whitney. There were also the settlements against her estate for legal fees, loans, etc. For a time, she sold live oaks to a lumber company in an effort to salvage the cotton gin company.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eli Whitney returned to his home in New Haven, Connecticut yet he was tormented by his love for Caty. She was now past childbearing age and he wanted a family. She wrote him letters, cajoling him to come to her side, offering her sentiments on his health and his aloofness. She made a failed attempt at matching him with her youngest daughter, Louisa. On a trip to New York to endeavor to settle her final legal affairs with Nathanael’s and Phineas’ estates, she begged him to visit her. When he came at last, she recognized the final hopelessness of her dream of marriage with this man she badgered, pitied, worried over, and loved with all her heart. She often asked him to come back to Georgia to visit her, but he never returned.</div><div><br /></div><div>On July 5, 1814, Caty wrote her last letter to Eli Whitney:</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>“We have a party of eighteen to eat Turtle with us tomorrow. I wish you were the nineteenth. Our fruit begins to flow in upon us—to partake of which I long for you… ”</i></div><div><br /></div><div>She had grown and found as Nathanael once suggested, that self-pity made a sad companion. In the last week of August, Caty was struck with a fever. The same week the capital city of Washington lay in ruins, burned by the British. Caty never knew. She died on September 2, 1814.</div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAxnPj18ICgtsimLJ8F8hgJ4oWx7Fv2FGZYj_4Jq9VGcZORvG_TtMtlOfRi2uaA_eSLRTfChg4ggeOIwFCwfA9YoceKoyX30uPV4Bgg6TAA5HkxDzrZlpn2sM2_fk3ukBzmsw03R84C3CKGR1sctCaSoiE9LnSm-UOWN1YFg-XoGK9R-eca2_SJG2Ktc/s469/Picture9.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="311" data-original-width="469" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAxnPj18ICgtsimLJ8F8hgJ4oWx7Fv2FGZYj_4Jq9VGcZORvG_TtMtlOfRi2uaA_eSLRTfChg4ggeOIwFCwfA9YoceKoyX30uPV4Bgg6TAA5HkxDzrZlpn2sM2_fk3ukBzmsw03R84C3CKGR1sctCaSoiE9LnSm-UOWN1YFg-XoGK9R-eca2_SJG2Ktc/s320/Picture9.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Greene-Miller Cemetery on Cumberland
Island at Dungeness<o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table>Despite history’s proverbial finger pointing about what she may have done during her marriage to Nathanael, Caty was a women whose strengths and weaknesses allowed her to face the consequences of war and meet them head on the rest of her life.<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Resources:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Stegeman, John F. and Janet A. <i>Caty
A Biography of Catharine Littlefield Greene </i>Athens, Georgia University of
Georgia Press, 1977. Print.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Carbone, Gerald M. <i>Nathanael
Greene A Biography of the American Revolution</i>, 2008. Print.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thayer, Theodore. <i>Nathanael
Greene Strategist Of The American Revolution </i>New York: Twayne
Publishers, 1960. Print.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><a href="https://www.eliwhitney.org/7/museum/about-eli-whitney/inventor"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">https://www.eliwhitney.org/7/museum/about-eli-whitney/inventor</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Line-Splendor-Nathanael-American-Revolution/dp/0998755869 " target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjbKnrB5I0OJbjH3-mz9XhLYI0zhnr5K2hHP6ZDh7o39E31Ycy7WQPfSSMdJ-Xv3D_3B5pE_ZY7lvlG2PEZSkl6NAcRrdjA9bMF2z_NqKRjDchwtVG-mauumTUJXMhcTrL2MLE3vo-t2BSrf66hoZP8FkUK9jJTVeSn8Afeu1cRzFVQmEzFO0fSOYa1s/s451/Picture10.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjbKnrB5I0OJbjH3-mz9XhLYI0zhnr5K2hHP6ZDh7o39E31Ycy7WQPfSSMdJ-Xv3D_3B5pE_ZY7lvlG2PEZSkl6NAcRrdjA9bMF2z_NqKRjDchwtVG-mauumTUJXMhcTrL2MLE3vo-t2BSrf66hoZP8FkUK9jJTVeSn8Afeu1cRzFVQmEzFO0fSOYa1s/s320/Picture10.jpg" width="235" /></a></span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Line-Splendor-Nathanael-American-Revolution/dp/0998755869 " target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></a></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Line-Splendor-Nathanael-American-Revolution/dp/0998755869 " target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></a></span></b></p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Read more about Caty in Salina's novel, The Line of Splendor!</span></b><p></p></div><div><br /><div>Connect with Salina Baker on <a href="https://salinabakerauthor.com/" target="_blank">her website</a> to learn more about her writing and read more fascinating articles about the American Revolution!</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjjy4za71-qMhnsz-U7RBEpIhtCbpcEHBB73kdKGX1QWToKzecPlpS67cS-il6EEadX6tGRxeXzWZL0x2v8p_2HVGDJ1WauEsaJD0azzZUC12bQb-1oMXzTjM6P8YGtgEC_eHUyNFzgJbR9OPVBYNj-LEEFciOck2Drf7WE7kvzdr10B42Zsvcf9n1ys/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjjy4za71-qMhnsz-U7RBEpIhtCbpcEHBB73kdKGX1QWToKzecPlpS67cS-il6EEadX6tGRxeXzWZL0x2v8p_2HVGDJ1WauEsaJD0azzZUC12bQb-1oMXzTjM6P8YGtgEC_eHUyNFzgJbR9OPVBYNj-LEEFciOck2Drf7WE7kvzdr10B42Zsvcf9n1ys/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Catch up with the rest of my <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank">celebration of Women's History Month</a>! </div><div><br /></div><div>Join me on your preferred social media to make sure you don't miss a thing!</div><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-31348530524158122852024-03-02T00:00:00.069-05:002024-03-02T00:00:00.134-05:00Woman on a Mission: Sophia Sawyer<p><b>Welcome to the first guest article of my<a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank"> 2024 Women's History Month </a>celebration! I am pleased to welcome Leslie Simmons here today. You might remember her from my January <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2024/01/what-im-reading-red-clay-running-waters.html" target="_blank">What I'm Reading feature of <i>Red Clay, Running Waters</i></a>. Christian missionaries played an important role in the Cherokee Nation in the 19th century, and I thank Leslie for shining a spotlight on one of them for us today. You've never heard of Sophia Sawyer? Well, read on. You're in for a treat!</b></p><p><b>~ Samantha</b></p><p><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Woman on a Mission: Sophia Sawyer</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by Leslie Simmons</span></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEic1vmarotrH9yZ5tWzjnz6VNfZIl6uUWsqJZMbydCSdartzmCr_upPrFCULnCh_NfJY1xRbs7o0tX5RdfIStGl6ENuXGOHWvb7q9N7Cqgl0NAFPn8ZDccM6QsYMw3DSEYhKHBJyLAAHMT3M7DZhBB8utocufoRCG7kNx0fPdNqPLRWbOXOxS5aLoxhU/s602/fayetteville%20seminary.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="602" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEic1vmarotrH9yZ5tWzjnz6VNfZIl6uUWsqJZMbydCSdartzmCr_upPrFCULnCh_NfJY1xRbs7o0tX5RdfIStGl6ENuXGOHWvb7q9N7Cqgl0NAFPn8ZDccM6QsYMw3DSEYhKHBJyLAAHMT3M7DZhBB8utocufoRCG7kNx0fPdNqPLRWbOXOxS5aLoxhU/w640-h196/fayetteville%20seminary.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Fayetteville, Arkansas Female Seminary - 1850</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Roles in society are most often dictated by the times we live in. In America, woman coming of age in the first half of the 19th Century had opportunities to define themselves in ways denied to many previous generations. Dominant social trends in Antebellum America exerted a powerful and lasting influence over what a woman should or could be and what was acceptable, leaving a paradoxical legacy that women today are still burdened by. </p><p>While their Revolutionary mothers and sister paved the way, the social norms of the early 1800’s - such as the democratization of education, the impact of the Second Great Awakening, and the concept of separate spheres of influence for men and women - brought about opportunities for the development of expanded roles for women, while at the same time continuing to narrow what was acceptable, and constraining women’s voices within sharply defined parameters. Concerned with its own progress toward ‘civilization’ along with its new role in the world as a beacon of enlightenment principles, the new American Republic also watched the rise of moral dilemmas at odds with the perfection implied in the countries founding. </p><p>America’s perception of itself as a righteous, Christian nation, combined with an increasing educated and worldly female population, gave rise to an expansion of women’s engagement in the spread of Christianity, benevolent societies, charitable activities, and occupations leveraging what was believed to be women’s power to influence on the character of the nation through children. Few women were ‘allowed’ to step outside of these norms. Increasingly, to gain more independence (of a sort) women took up positions as teachers, missionaries and authors during this time period. </p><p>For unmarried women, the role of the missionary teacher proved to be an option outside the support of their families or a husband, combining religious, intellectual, and the ‘female’ virtues of emotional care with their desire for independence, while also participating in shaping the world. Missions overseas were common, but a growing desire to ‘civilize’ America’s Native Americans brought a heightened interested in ‘Christianizing the heathen’, inspiring other women like Sophia Sawyer, the missionary teacher in Red Clay, Running Waters, to seek positions as teacher to the Cherokee.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVQZLwSq5-5C-6Bv3iTm0lzdDoVFwBuO-Sb4ccRQeuy1WLrhKWLOchP1M8YhuT9GZCikhG6QghtdAyHyG2sWL274sHA2AC1TFNhSbMUu3nFCvcV1NeWKcBul9PasnSfciLyhfD3kJS6fedA5aA01Mju_0fJGabnPmrdeYvgh45Pp4gcfac9A2c_CD2kI/s300/SawyerSophie_f-300x300.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVQZLwSq5-5C-6Bv3iTm0lzdDoVFwBuO-Sb4ccRQeuy1WLrhKWLOchP1M8YhuT9GZCikhG6QghtdAyHyG2sWL274sHA2AC1TFNhSbMUu3nFCvcV1NeWKcBul9PasnSfciLyhfD3kJS6fedA5aA01Mju_0fJGabnPmrdeYvgh45Pp4gcfac9A2c_CD2kI/s1600/SawyerSophie_f-300x300.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>As an orphan with no siblings, Sophia had few options. Impoverished, she had gained an education and a teaching certificate from Byfield Academy in Massachusetts, one of the many female seminaries in New England. Fostered by the efforts of Jeremiah Evarts, the American Board of Commissioner to Foreign Missions, and several President’s administrations, Sophia joined several other New England women in a network of small mission stations in what today are the States of Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina, though at the time they were considered to be part of the Cherokee Nation.<p></p><p>Sophia was ‘a woman of indomitable energy and perseverance’ with strong unconventional views about education, as well as about Cherokee and female capabilities, often unsettling her fellow missionaries with her opinions and actions. Her ‘unpredictable and unconventional’ mood swings put her at odds with many of the male missionaries who oversaw the mission stations. Nevertheless, she was well-loved and respected by her students and their families.</p><p>While teaching among the Cherokee she championed her own rights as well as those of the Cherokee by defying the State of Georgia for teaching African-American enslaved children, owned by Cherokee individuals who had sent them for instruction at her schools. Asserting to the Georgia Officer attempting to arrest her for instructing Black children (against the law in Georgia) that Georgia had no jurisdiction over who she taught within what remained, at the time, the Cherokee Nation. She remained teaching there until the Cherokee were ultimately forcibly removed from their homeland. Later, faithful to the Cherokee, she chose to join them in their exile in the West and was supported in her efforts by the family of John and Sarah Ridge, the family at the center of Red Clay, Running Waters, who were leading advocates for education.</p><p>When tragedy struck the Ridge family, Sophia accompanied Sarah Ridge and her children to the neighboring frontier town of Fayetteville, Arkansas, just outside of Indian Territory, where she quickly gained support for her efforts to establish a school for young ladies, primarily Cherokee females at first, than later taking daughters of local residents. </p><p>Her Fayetteville Female Seminary (shown in the engraving) would become one of the first institutions of higher learning in the newly formed State. While the school) was a victim to the ravages of the Civil War, Sophia Sawyer’s Seminary established the foundations for the town’s reputation for higher education excellence that ultimately led to the establishment of the University of Arkansas in the same Northwest Arkansas town.</p><p>Sophia would not live to see the ultimate impact of her dedication and work in Fayetteville, Arkansas, or with the Cherokee, but she left behind a legacy of commitment to education that informs the culture of the Northwest Arkansas and Cherokee communities to this day. Her reputation for fearless commitment to her principles, and her belief in the equality of the races was unflappable. While on her deathbed she lamented for what lay ahead, her life demonstrated that the actions of one individual, even a woman confined to her ‘sphere’ could indeed positively affect the lives of many.</p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6f53k88cLT4FVfBIqUKetC26YpBfsgtniumWflttW2-CXvh3Hpac7Utfls1j9nFxF0BoBLfpbrGVtlHe7ewtzAv9m7DMhGG6qyUPOdI0WzZmMauioK7dp2RgbZMz0kLzx43h0Uhq-9xgVpBjW0TP2UCYh8tWJI4wJfvKCXaejVhIzV8_2bfSdA9A-aI/s1360/Red%20Clay%20Running%20Waters.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="946" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6f53k88cLT4FVfBIqUKetC26YpBfsgtniumWflttW2-CXvh3Hpac7Utfls1j9nFxF0BoBLfpbrGVtlHe7ewtzAv9m7DMhGG6qyUPOdI0WzZmMauioK7dp2RgbZMz0kLzx43h0Uhq-9xgVpBjW0TP2UCYh8tWJI4wJfvKCXaejVhIzV8_2bfSdA9A-aI/w222-h320/Red%20Clay%20Running%20Waters.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Clay-Running-Waters-Leslie-Simmons/dp/B0CLF3L12T/" target="_blank">Read more about Sophia in <i>Red Clay, Running Waters</i></a>, and <a href="https://leslieksimmons.com/" target="_blank">connect with Leslie on her website</a>! </span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>Red Clay, Running Waters</i> is the little-known story of John Ridge, a Cherokee man dedicated to his people, and his White wife, Sarah Northrop, a woman forfeiting everything to join him.</div><div><br /></div><div>A timely saga of one family’s search for justice, this story of profound love, sacrifice, and the meaning of home weaves the complex strands of politics, race, religion, and love into the tapestry of the turbulent times before the Trail of Tears. Readers will be propelled on a stunning journey across true events that leads to a haunting and moving conclusion.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKCqrmDxf6FMXogtoazccLbIRPFJ69Z0AenqXaWb0oHiyQ7JmYoGIh0FHLM87h9se49x2bA90XUXrOqewibzf-BMXphJfsfrTCXtm4O22vae9yMX8tj1rJ5Ynw1gSaZY2BmceoFrPzP3mNd73h9knB8HldzJ2-Degr5-r8KbNlL_edYqRCgtOYWWZ5F4/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKCqrmDxf6FMXogtoazccLbIRPFJ69Z0AenqXaWb0oHiyQ7JmYoGIh0FHLM87h9se49x2bA90XUXrOqewibzf-BMXphJfsfrTCXtm4O22vae9yMX8tj1rJ5Ynw1gSaZY2BmceoFrPzP3mNd73h9knB8HldzJ2-Degr5-r8KbNlL_edYqRCgtOYWWZ5F4/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Stay tuned for my celebration of<a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Womens%20History%20Month%202024" target="_blank"> Women's History Month! </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Join me on your preferred social media to make sure you don't miss a thing!</div><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p style="background-color: #fffefe; color: #525252; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" style="color: #d838bb; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-33448996518057497322024-03-01T00:00:00.024-05:002024-03-01T00:00:00.163-05:00Women's History Month<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoStOFBDO9rzguSkg8fm1hPJB_IGRqFbyDp7KxlqgxW8HD70u52qd0Wnv4g9IXtOaIKyvUJKxCMtektGr2DyFyZ0Xa9-QFj6tcvPsROWMWDFY3km5WuVYcKkzdm2z-uYHNKR7eDY3j3SgB3xZAO769QF_XfhKGcmGEI0NYPqSbqPZ-1TDOXTsPBQwpIBk/s1080/Womens%20History%20Month.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoStOFBDO9rzguSkg8fm1hPJB_IGRqFbyDp7KxlqgxW8HD70u52qd0Wnv4g9IXtOaIKyvUJKxCMtektGr2DyFyZ0Xa9-QFj6tcvPsROWMWDFY3km5WuVYcKkzdm2z-uYHNKR7eDY3j3SgB3xZAO769QF_XfhKGcmGEI0NYPqSbqPZ-1TDOXTsPBQwpIBk/s320/Womens%20History%20Month.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Good morning, dear readers! I'm excited to celebrate Women's History Month with you!<p></p><p>I will be welcoming several guests to the blog this month, each sharing a story of a fascinating historical woman. Some guests will be familiar, and others are new to my blog and I can't wait to introduce you. I hope you will find each article informative and inspiring!</p><p>I also have two events planned this month. <a href="https://www.samanthawilcoxson.com/events/women-of-the-american-revolution" target="_blank">Join me at Lincoln Township Library on March 25 to talk about <i>Women of the American Revolution</i>. </a>You can also join the <a href="https://www.samanthawilcoxson.com/events/women-breaking-barriers" target="_blank">virtual Historical Writers Forum celebration of Women's History Month</a>, where we will have an amazing panel discussing some of our favorite historical ladies.</p><p>Make sure you follow me on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, so that you don't miss a thing!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPVBpWOMGhPjJI3hyphenhypheneJEu03wbcE1yLZTn5h824NeI6zA774tgSAc9tym-xdQ7KrX5dZ9BNU3N7qi8zOhGKARuFKiqhmDSQgga3ywdn67BePaoMul1PQmSHY8NYvq-YU5tTxqzA1JIUPzn1wDZ6ck6v8cNwsCzmST7EC1kUgjgLVuMTJZz24cPAdtfYdI/s320/Luminous%20worth%20reading.png" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Wondering what to read for Women's History Month? Consider <i><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous: The Story of a Radium Girl</a></i>, based on the true story of Catherine Donohue, if you love historical fiction. <p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://mybook.to/AmRevWomen " imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="3467" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9MhyphenhyphenjBJNOEhIOLLW44yC_Bj0My6XeQ2TyP2Idq5ppQ-GfWIdDpLxuqY3anp2TJWZznK9bLftWwr-naoyG-Z7lz7jcrvI8Hq5ETKnRJccn2ttML4y_tfYyIN9kT7vpF1TLqLv0DrDSBcUx7-gZ33BaFIVmkOVEIr2uO0jSM6pr1NWZvGpga3Ke05AP1g/s320/WotAR3.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Prefer nonfiction? Read <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Women-American-Revolution-Samantha-Wilcoxson-ebook/dp/B0BHBQSZVG/" target="_blank">Women of the American Revolution</a></i> for a series of mini-biographies of 18th century American women. <p></p><p><br /></p><p>What other books would you recommend?</p><br /><br /><p><br /></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-79997967832725262302024-02-29T00:00:00.038-05:002024-02-29T00:00:00.136-05:00The Trail to Crooked Creek<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJymo0WJ-PMhEhnDCVk4kk2tX5v7z567Z2bDjJXZb5FYAf0cJaSLA12deJfqfmOiwj7bzaJpaUj_UwAEs9PVYKY5P6viu-7SdV3m0EG8IFC-KaSgU5-5z9scBohGSJWNx0K3a5K0IFKbZ_ER5MA7WdbLONN8Gq2g0vrca_mAw6y9mPEcnIMlC4igml40/s640/The%20Trail%20to%20Crooked%20Creek%20Tour%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJymo0WJ-PMhEhnDCVk4kk2tX5v7z567Z2bDjJXZb5FYAf0cJaSLA12deJfqfmOiwj7bzaJpaUj_UwAEs9PVYKY5P6viu-7SdV3m0EG8IFC-KaSgU5-5z9scBohGSJWNx0K3a5K0IFKbZ_ER5MA7WdbLONN8Gq2g0vrca_mAw6y9mPEcnIMlC4igml40/w640-h360/The%20Trail%20to%20Crooked%20Creek%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><i>Good morning, dear readers! Writing about James Alexander Hamilton has increased my interest in the years immediately before and after the American Civil War. If the same is true for you, keep reading this spotlight on MK McClintock's post-Civil War novel, <b><a href="https://books2read.com/u/bM2N08 " target="_blank">The Trail to Crooked Creek</a></b>.</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">The Trail to Crooked Creek</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by MK McClintock</span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b>Everyday heroes who find the courage to believe in extraordinary love.</b></p><p>Two years after the devastations of war left their mark on a country torn apart, Wesley Davenport, a former soldier haunted by his experiences on the battlefield crosses paths with Leah Tennyson, a teacher who helps him heal his emotional wounds—and discovers unexpected love in the most unlikely place.</p><p><i><a href="https://books2read.com/u/bM2N08 " target="_blank">The Trail to Crooked Creek</a></i>, a novella, is a tale of resilience, compassion, and the triumph of the human spirit set in the breathtaking and sometimes unforgiving landscape of post-Civil War Montana Territory.</p><div><div>"MK McClintock knows what readers want." ~ Readers' Favorite</div><div><br /></div><div>Set in post-Civil War Montana Territory, in the small town of Crooked Creek, it all started with Emma. Her story was written for a contest, but I soon realized there were more women whose tales needed to be written. The war is over between the North and the South, but the battles at home are just beginning. If you love stories of bravery and courage with unforgettable women and the men they love, you'll enjoy the Crooked Creek series. </div><div><br /></div></div><div><div><b>MK McClintock</b> is an award-winning author who writes historical romantic fiction about chivalrous men and strong women who appreciate chivalry. Her stories of romance, mystery, and adventure sweep across the American West to the Victorian British Isles with places and times between and beyond. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her works include the following series: Montana Gallaghers, Crooked Creek, British Agents, Whitcomb Springs, and the stand-alone collection, <i>A Home for Christmas</i>. She is also the co-author of the McKenzie Sisters Mysteries.</div><div><br /></div><div>MK enjoys a quiet life in the northern Rocky Mountains. Visit her at <a href="http://www.mkmcclintock.com">www.mkmcclintock.com</a>, where you can learn more about her books, explore extras, view her blog, and subscribe to receive news. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2024/02/blog-tour-the-trail-to-crooked-creek-by-mk-mcclintock.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0C_uLFQrPiDicC6cBEyBrHRb-qE1YqbPOK2b8JlnrfILcPSxKAEgCzcznKphbp6UUIrcOFyVV1Y2CEFl_HL4i2QojAgS6JDxdbKuxI0nXzaVR6a-6hey_4qI7SuJI_U5ecHAY7K_YMJ7uhFS5wEnWcqK1wJkAsz5ZOkDhX3fgvYCwHEIrw3qzwe6N-tY/w640-h360/The%20Trail%20to%20Crooked%20Creek%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-86991242337771076342024-02-16T00:00:00.001-05:002024-02-16T00:00:00.138-05:00A Grave Every Mile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwcM_9u7mUd3-9A9VUwO9cCEhHhczRdNQra5zbxr3p4FrfOmMFSPKuZFSiyD-sSvHj7SqVW0zzTxnePRHMPgeHkcnAol30Er0bb-MuhAPrZ3F-bHkBSK6wVPlwla2Ii7q8vjbFNTXip58TWV9sPCRw2t6sVrlxYWOQhjFB3BxX3q9vH6cFRn5oLObh2w/s640/A%20Grave%20Every%20Mile%20Tour%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwcM_9u7mUd3-9A9VUwO9cCEhHhczRdNQra5zbxr3p4FrfOmMFSPKuZFSiyD-sSvHj7SqVW0zzTxnePRHMPgeHkcnAol30Er0bb-MuhAPrZ3F-bHkBSK6wVPlwla2Ii7q8vjbFNTXip58TWV9sPCRw2t6sVrlxYWOQhjFB3BxX3q9vH6cFRn5oLObh2w/w640-h360/A%20Grave%20Every%20Mile%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><i>As my dear readers know, I have been delving into the early 19th century since I started research for my biography of James Alexander Hamilton. Last month, I reviewed <b><a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2024/01/what-im-reading-red-clay-running-waters.html" target="_blank">Red Clay, Running Waters</a></b>, which takes place during that era. Today, I welcome author David Fitz-Gerald with an excerpt from the same time frame. His novel, <b><a href="https://books2read.com/agem" target="_blank">A Grave Every Mile</a></b>, begins in 1850 when so many hopeful journeys west ended in heartache.</i></p><p><i>Welcome, David!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">A Grave Every Mile: An Excerpt</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post from David Fitz-Gerald</span></b></p><p><br /></p><p><i>Independence, Missouri, April 13, 1850</i></p><p>I hate it when men fight. After a man throws his first punch, he doesn’t remember why he’s fighting. Where’s the marshal? A town the size of Independence must have a lawman.</p><p>A crowd gathers in the rutty street as two men face each other, circling, waiting for an opportunity to swing. The blond combatant hollers in a high-pitched voice, “Take that back, Bobby.”</p><p>The dark-haired man, evidently Bobby, shouts, “No, I won’t. You can’t make me.”</p><p>The other man shouts, “You can’t talk about my wife like that. I’ll rip your head off.”</p><p>“She may be your wife, Wayne, but she’s also my sister. I’ll say what I want.”</p><p>Wayne lands a glancing blow on Bobby's cheek. As the punched man’s face turns, I realize these aren’t men. They’re practically boys.</p><p>The crowd cheers, encouraging them on. I’ve heard enough. If nobody is going to stop them, I will. My youngest daughter whines as I slide her from my hip, and wails when her feet reach the boardwalk in front of the dry goods store. My twelve-year-old daughter’s eyes reflect trepidation and I reassure her. “Don’t worry, Rose, honey. Hold Dahlia Jane’s hand. Stay right here until I return, and please don’t wander off, for Heaven’s sake.” I glance about to see where my husband and the boys are, but they're nowhere in sight. Not that Larkin would intervene. He would just shake his head and frown.</p><p>Two steps from the walkway, in front of the mercantile, my boots meet the muddy, uneven street. Even over the heads of observers, now three deep, I peg the fighters. At times like these, being a woman who is taller than most men is an advantage. As I push people aside, the two men growl at each other. Their arms lock as the evenly matched scrappers transition from fisticuffs to grappling. A trickle of blood dribbles from the corner of Bobby's mouth, and Wayne has a crimson eyebrow.</p><p>A tidy-looking young woman catches my attention. First, she addresses the dark-haired man, evidently her husband. “Stop it, Bobby." Then she reprimands her brother. "Knock it off, Wayne. You are creating a scene. Somebody will get hurt.” She glances up at me, her brow furrowed. It seems like a plea for help. I should know better than to interfere in the business of strangers. How many times have I been warned not to get involved? I can never help myself in such situations.</p><p>I step toward the snarling bruisers, grab each man by the back of his shirt, and separate them. The scrawny hooligans are surprisingly easy to lift. Maybe they seem so light because of all the years I spent chopping wood. The brown-haired man squirms more than his opponent, who implores, “What are you doing, lady? Have you gone mad?”</p><p>“My name ain’t Lady. It’s Dorcas, or Mrs. Moon, if you must.” Their dangling legs barely reach the ground. I clutch wads of fabric in my fists and their feet dance urgently beneath them, trying to find purchase within the muck. I feel like a schoolmarm interrupting a playground scuffle, but these are not children. I gaze into the dark eyes of one boy, then the bright eyes of the other. “What’s gotten into you? I’m sure you know better than to behave like this. What would your mothers think to see you now? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”</p><p>The people around us shuffle out of the way, and I’m surprised by an oncoming carriage. It’s too late to duck to the side of the street. A team of shiny black horses swiftly conveys a magnificent rig through a gloppy puddle a few feet from the boys and me, drenching my pink checked dress in pungent mud.</p><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/agem" target="_blank">Keep reading <i>A Grave Every Mile</i>!</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxY1rVboLN1LYq6vJIIbH6bq4FFamSDzU8IwzW41f4oQVcx2jjIuYbOaPUAGmh74sBQOby2gDCM3IccHy-NLJu5FzJVTzcuI-uqd-N146Vebat0ls80N9HUeKVvP2ubOEM_EiC0qGickbUIhPacPdPn0BVjjkXGX1UKA1o2_coPZCTjopjTZWxQI271Ys/s1080/IG%20banner%202%20A%20Grave%20Every%20Mile.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxY1rVboLN1LYq6vJIIbH6bq4FFamSDzU8IwzW41f4oQVcx2jjIuYbOaPUAGmh74sBQOby2gDCM3IccHy-NLJu5FzJVTzcuI-uqd-N146Vebat0ls80N9HUeKVvP2ubOEM_EiC0qGickbUIhPacPdPn0BVjjkXGX1UKA1o2_coPZCTjopjTZWxQI271Ys/s320/IG%20banner%202%20A%20Grave%20Every%20Mile.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Embark on a harrowing trek across the rugged American frontier in 1850. Your wagon awaits, and the untamed wilderness calls. This epic western adventure will test the mettle of even the bravest souls.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Dorcas Moon and her family set forth in search of opportunity and a brighter future. Yet, what awaits them is a relentless gauntlet of life-threatening challenges: miserable weather, ravenous insects, scorching sunburns, and unforgiving terrain. It's not merely a battle for survival but a test of their unity and sanity.</div><div><br /></div><div>Amidst the chaos, Dorcas faces ceaseless trials: her husband's unending bickering, her daughter's descent into madness, and the ever-present danger of lethal rattlesnakes, intensifying the peril with each step. The specter of death looms large, with diseases spreading and the eerie howls of rabid wolves piercing the night. Will the haunting image of wolves desecrating a grave push Dorcas over the edge?</div><div><br /></div><div>With each mile, the migration poses a haunting question: Who will endure the relentless quest to cross the continent, and who will leave their bones to rest beside the trail? The pathway is bordered by graves, a chilling reminder of the steep cost of dreams.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>A Grave Every Mile</i> marks the commencement of an unforgettable saga. Start reading Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail now to immerse yourself in an expedition where every decision carries the weight of life, death, and the pursuit of a brighter future along the Oregon Trail.</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://books2read.com/agem " target="_blank">Buy your copy or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with David Fitz-Gerald</span></b></div><div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjjK3PMHOTO0705CLGRGiD99GtfmAbcdvh3A5ENnJHrRf2GiOrZtanLKeKWNt-3PcBfs69bQJuvv4NiEMQWkBwtnBI1_9itoh1zmFY3gtzL87Rw-DytigWQeDBsQMDndblNCpPxZAUg8SnLSLL2sbZ60NUnGv9YFuKmfyMuvBF15JNTHwYQSVSpP6bEM/s1080/David%20Fitz-Gerald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjjK3PMHOTO0705CLGRGiD99GtfmAbcdvh3A5ENnJHrRf2GiOrZtanLKeKWNt-3PcBfs69bQJuvv4NiEMQWkBwtnBI1_9itoh1zmFY3gtzL87Rw-DytigWQeDBsQMDndblNCpPxZAUg8SnLSLL2sbZ60NUnGv9YFuKmfyMuvBF15JNTHwYQSVSpP6bEM/s320/David%20Fitz-Gerald.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>David Fitz-Gerald writes westerns and historical fiction. He is the author of twelve books, including the brand-new series, Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail set in 1850. Dave is a multiple Laramie Award, first place, best in category winner; a Blue Ribbon Chanticleerian; a member of Western Writers of America; and a member of the Historical Novel Society.</div><div><br /></div><div>Alpine landscapes and flashy horses always catch Dave’s eye and turn his head. He is also an Adirondack 46-er, which means that he has hiked to the summit of the range’s highest peaks. As a mountaineer, he’s happiest at an elevation of over four thousand feet above sea level.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave is a lifelong fan of western fiction, landscapes, movies, and music. It should be no surprise that Dave delights in placing memorable characters on treacherous trails, mountain tops, and on the backs of wild horses.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Connect with him through his <a href="https://www.itsoag.com/GATOT " target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/AuthorDAVIDFG " target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDaveFITZGERALD/ " target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/authordavefitzgerald/ " target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/AuthorDaveFITZGERALD" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>, <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/david-fitz-gerald " target="_blank">Book Bub</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/author/dfitzgerald " target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, and <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17341792.David_Fitz_Gerald " target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2024/01/blog-tour-a-grave-every-mile-by-david-fitzgerald.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHUIYCOWXfjeQrhBvsaa03QuFh0Z8YNlh09n92n0-qx42oFb-mB8Iu55fH3WMH_rN6pSssLQfti4bgfOQTBLpTZqbQQSUfJAPK1zp6b_C-8__reIRhYoqMU6knRw_uCMJ9jJaWBs38cRkfXGjlvXH1i4i5aGmFa_rAxUJl2sbWtb8mXLqMCAGf72jP-g/w640-h360/A%20Grave%20Every%20Mile%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-89381248935799981472024-02-11T06:27:00.002-05:002024-02-11T06:45:12.842-05:00What I'm Reading: Black History Month<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIunlFRtB2cG_fYpMB5COJfy4vOt29dTzdsSiorhveug1ZZ4PlKXCxJvTsjqEh22JZR9FVcsk8AkQaGqEkbSESDt4pMxXBLhYAh9rv53LII2EQKEg92rRqJIlCC_Z626XOaT2B-zbqnc9oprEu_TDJlq-LbFRg-tpZFQNynFaPZPA0h5V8k45hKIXqTg/s1640/BHM%20(Cover).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIunlFRtB2cG_fYpMB5COJfy4vOt29dTzdsSiorhveug1ZZ4PlKXCxJvTsjqEh22JZR9FVcsk8AkQaGqEkbSESDt4pMxXBLhYAh9rv53LII2EQKEg92rRqJIlCC_Z626XOaT2B-zbqnc9oprEu_TDJlq-LbFRg-tpZFQNynFaPZPA0h5V8k45hKIXqTg/w640-h360/BHM%20(Cover).png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>As I was trying to decide which of my recent reads to spotlight for Black History Month, I said, "Why pick just one?" So here are three titles I've finished this month that look at black life in the early 19th century.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2uSa37mahw8kMvTNCa5KJ6cgRSWqo4p2h0LQMu03vKvNYkkrgHRv4BWKvPSbr5uIzMpf7-z6ZZ016pLMVyumVDYEdXR5MzYk1z4OnHOrBqIVtBvCcxl5u4mbRILdXp8CTIndk6wxk2BIiouq1P_1nNviKoRNuv11t6l-J0IcBwzkVhf-md9oP0x1DKw/s475/Jacobs.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="297" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2uSa37mahw8kMvTNCa5KJ6cgRSWqo4p2h0LQMu03vKvNYkkrgHRv4BWKvPSbr5uIzMpf7-z6ZZ016pLMVyumVDYEdXR5MzYk1z4OnHOrBqIVtBvCcxl5u4mbRILdXp8CTIndk6wxk2BIiouq1P_1nNviKoRNuv11t6l-J0IcBwzkVhf-md9oP0x1DKw/s320/Jacobs.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I feel like I need to talk about <i>Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl</i> first, because it is a first-hand account that is mentioned in both other works. The memoir of Harriet Jacobs exposes the struggles of the enslaved, even those who may not have seemed at first glance to be in a harsh situation. She did not work in fields, was not beaten, and had much of her family around her. However, she was also pursued by her enslaver and manipulated to the extent that, at fifteen, she selected another white man to become her lover and serve as something of a protector. She goes on to tell how she hid in a sparse attic space for YEARS in order to avoid the man who owned her and his amorous advances. It is unfathomable. I think of the discomforts I complain about - the middle seat on an airplane and other minor inconveniences - and I struggle to comprehend what Jacobs endured before finally securing her freedom.<p></p><p>It is much easier to understand why the other two authors mention Harriet Jacobs in their books. Her testimony is powerful and sweeps away some of the comforting lies about slavery told in both the north and the south.</p><p>(I listened to <i>Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl</i> free with Audible Plus.)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8kxkWYWCPEJ_P2ck3ix5h77m9jzJXElttQmjm4PVAleH3un1gwCMOY-mSZW3Bh_pLmyikcaV5jsxQKbB2VcwxVkOv1JBL7ZpEDvOi_vlLNSuJD_EyI-wzD42ZzWr3q8gl7ObXibqNlKBB55uyW08S7D8CgdL8w0diK0y39fzqEbwQ_GNoB3vDaW6z68/s2560/BlackElders.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1707" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8kxkWYWCPEJ_P2ck3ix5h77m9jzJXElttQmjm4PVAleH3un1gwCMOY-mSZW3Bh_pLmyikcaV5jsxQKbB2VcwxVkOv1JBL7ZpEDvOi_vlLNSuJD_EyI-wzD42ZzWr3q8gl7ObXibqNlKBB55uyW08S7D8CgdL8w0diK0y39fzqEbwQ_GNoB3vDaW6z68/s320/BlackElders.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>One of the most important people in Harriet's life was her grandmother, who was a free woman but was helpless to help Harriet escape beyond hiding her in the attic. In <i>Black Elders</i>, Frederick Knight uses this example and many others to emphasize the value of aged black people in their forced labor communities. Another example is Frederick Douglass, whose grandmother served as substitute for the mother who had been sold away when he was a child. The author provides an astonishing number of individual examples of black elders from the American Revolution through the Civil War and their impact on family, the work force, the church, and politics. While it sometimes feels a little disjointed and repetitive, the sheer number of personal quotes and stories the author has compiled is an impressive accomplishment.<div><br /></div><div>I had hoped for a more in-depth look at the black family in this book and how the situations they were placed in caused the creation of non-biological family units. There are some individual examples of this taking place, but not the broader look at how it impacted (and still impacts) black culture that I was looking for. The author does include many examples of hardship and injustice endured by black elders and their perseverance to serve as honored members of their communities.</div><div><br /></div><div>One thing that will stay with me from this book was the author's habit of calling plantations forced labor camps. While this is accurate, it is not a term I had applied in this situation. It was a powerful way to strip away any romanticism of the southern plantation lifestyle. This and some of the little-known people Knight mentions were thought provoking and effective in helping readers consider our history from a point-of-view perhaps not previously considered.<br /><p></p><p>(I received my copy of <i>Black Elders: The Meaning of Age in American Slavery and Freedom</i> free through the publisher and NetGalley. Opinions are my own.)</p><p><i>Bound for Canaan: The Underground Railroad and the War for the Soul of America</i> was my favorite of these books, partly because it was most useful for a writing project I am considering. I started out with a library copy and ended up purchasing my own so that I could mark it up and use it for future reference. If you are interested in the Underground Railroad beyond the vague mention that it received in high school history, pick up this book. I was constantly amazed by the testimonies and statistics compiled. It's one of those books that make you realize just how much you don't know.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRqUHsycDc0WWxEhxWM0FrV3ztZ2RjQ-iUbXgH509YJGFeUhVkEdXOFhHdfLNW5P50vDQi1xOmspxX_98wmuZu8d49mNG-SNi7mtl44mLZsVKXM79D9x_xp4WnTRmNyv2iQLDH1terPEHh65ODZYEVHU6OLNpp2R2lfyyEiCuWuaSq89gt5mqsg8gOWY/s400/Canaan.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="265" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRqUHsycDc0WWxEhxWM0FrV3ztZ2RjQ-iUbXgH509YJGFeUhVkEdXOFhHdfLNW5P50vDQi1xOmspxX_98wmuZu8d49mNG-SNi7mtl44mLZsVKXM79D9x_xp4WnTRmNyv2iQLDH1terPEHh65ODZYEVHU6OLNpp2R2lfyyEiCuWuaSq89gt5mqsg8gOWY/s320/Canaan.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Some of these facts seemed obvious after reading them, such as the fact that 80% of freedom seekers to the north came from border states. The enslaved in the deep south had little hope and were unlikely to possess any knowledge of where to go if they could escape and travel the many miles to a free state. It's sad and awful and I had never thought about it, but it also makes sense. It added a dimension to the terrible fear of being sold to the deep south.<p></p><p>There's a lot of information here and a lot of people to keep track of, which seems to frustrate some readers, but this book is worth the effort. It tells the story of the Underground Railroad in a comprehensive way, going into great detail about freedom seekers and those who helped them where such historical information is available while stripping away any romantic ideas readers may have of how easy or common escape really was. It was humbling to read about so many people - men and women, black and white - who sacrificed so much to stand up to the horrific slaveholding power. The testimonies are stirring enough to make one wonder, "Would I have the courage to do the same?" I see this book becoming a much-used resource in my research library.</p><p>I have a few more books related to the Underground Railroad and America's Civil War on my TBR, so let me know if those are something you'd like to see featured more here. What are you reading for Black History Month?</p><p>See more of what I'm reading on <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/samanthajw" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> or what I have <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/book%20club" target="_blank">reviewed here</a>. I love to talk about books! Let me know what you're reading too. </p></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-45099328377851191522024-01-25T00:00:00.001-05:002024-01-25T00:00:00.244-05:00What I'm Reading: Red Clay, Running Waters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BqFS-t3oYtVdbionGNFto-WORbK_vGM72_c9kjtswaLANlwQZkbE0kjJm7SPDrv75xU9R_sDv2ebGBlhRkc8ETkThmbU53gal3FcvjU8XxrNKR6UWdFRWFraSBaur4LaHPfARIK1BawaS7tR1pKdE4OuPpVygNY-xrTqfUO5rl3RuzoXoCMFGr9sfEk/s1600/Red%20Clay.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BqFS-t3oYtVdbionGNFto-WORbK_vGM72_c9kjtswaLANlwQZkbE0kjJm7SPDrv75xU9R_sDv2ebGBlhRkc8ETkThmbU53gal3FcvjU8XxrNKR6UWdFRWFraSBaur4LaHPfARIK1BawaS7tR1pKdE4OuPpVygNY-xrTqfUO5rl3RuzoXoCMFGr9sfEk/w640-h360/Red%20Clay.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><i>Red Clay, Running Waters</i> is a debut novel from author <a href="https://leslieksimmons.com/books/" target="_blank">Leslie K Simmons</a>, featuring the true story of Cherokee advocate John Ridge. I am connected with Leslie through Historical Writers Forum and had a peek at the first chapters of this moving novel before its publication. When I was offered the opportunity to read the entire finished product, of course, I said yes. My dear readers will undoubtedly recognize why I was drawn to this tragic protagonist.</p><p>From the opening scene, there is a heartbreaking quality about this book. The reader does not need to have deep knowledge of US history to know that Ridge's quest to help lead an independent Cherokee nation within Georgia, or at least have his people maintain some level of autonomy, is doomed from the start. Joining him on his journey is an emotive ride. </p><p>John becomes aware of what the Cherokee people are up against when he travels as a teenager to missionary school in Connecticut. Accepting that Christianity is the price he must pay for an excellent education, he leaves home with lofty goals. Seeing cities like Philadelphia and New York forces him to accept that there will be no holding back the wave of white settlers spreading westward from the east coast. The Cherokee Nation must survive through diplomacy, for it will not be able to do so through power.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWJ1nOuaaFHg7UTs7l0JoKwoJLuiLhTGhx-0o1GwJj9geflmvkz7gBLubyRod__f6KpfGoXp-eXKlFSPn6nJqK2xLWsOmlc-ZJTg-Qs7I5YA6QqzTFqiF6688djy-SZIZ1gdyIIt5mVOAGyKrF1ZAfMaWP7hliYWNaabiIhwllcS2Z5tQrUqm30dT3Mg/s4501/JohnRidgeCherokee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4501" data-original-width="4406" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWJ1nOuaaFHg7UTs7l0JoKwoJLuiLhTGhx-0o1GwJj9geflmvkz7gBLubyRod__f6KpfGoXp-eXKlFSPn6nJqK2xLWsOmlc-ZJTg-Qs7I5YA6QqzTFqiF6688djy-SZIZ1gdyIIt5mVOAGyKrF1ZAfMaWP7hliYWNaabiIhwllcS2Z5tQrUqm30dT3Mg/s320/JohnRidgeCherokee.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Ridge<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>An unanticipated result of John's time in New England is his marriage to Sarah Northrop, the daughter of the white family working at the school. The couple underestimates the negativity the revelation of their relationship is met with. John slowly realizes that the white Christians believe the Indians deserve the gospel but not equality. <i>“The
respect I believed we gained through our efforts are merely platitudes, a
means for the Whites to congratulate themselves on their condescension
and benevolence.”</i></p><p>One aspect of the Cherokee's story will likely surprise readers. While most will have some idea of what the Trail of Tears was, less is known about the Cherokee Nation before removal. John and Sarah Ridge lived in an expansive plantation home and enslaved many people. Slave ownership is not excused in this story, though the Ridges are portrayed as benevolent owners, as much as one can be who claims others as property. A few mentions of those who are cruel are made but only as exceptions. There are a few moments of John contemplating the similarity of the Cherokee position to that of blacks, but never to the extent that he considers that blacks too deserve their freedom. It adds a real-life complication to the story to have those suffering from racism practicing it themselves.</p><p>At almost 700 pages, this book is a commitment to following Ridge through each step of his struggles. The author does not leave anything out or cram multiple events into one as has become common in modern historical fiction, creating a highly accurate rendition of events but one that moves thoughtfully if sometimes slowly.</p><p>The true character of Andrew Jackson is on full display. One character states, <i>“This man of the common people who
spurned aristocracy seems to have no issue with treating others like subjects.”</i> I couldn't agree more and have included similar observations in my upcoming biography of James Alexander Hamilton, who served as Jackson's temporary Secretary of State and advised him throughout his presidency. Unfortunately, few people have been as dependent on the outcome as a presidential election as the Cherokee Nation, and Jackson's second term was a disaster for them.</p><p>I learned a lot reading this book, and I'm still not sure exactly how I feel about John Ridge. He was devoted to what he felt was right, but was there a way that would have resulted in less heartache? Even in hindsight, I can't say. Neither he nor his family deserved what happened. More than that I will not say, so that you can read his story for yourself in <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Clay-Running-Waters-Leslie-Simmons-ebook/dp/B0CLZ11M1G/" target="_blank">Red Clay, Running Waters</a></i>.</p><p>Read more of my<a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/book%20review" target="_blank"> book reviews here</a> or join me on<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5784187.Samantha_Wilcoxson" target="_blank"> Goodreads</a>!</p><p><br /></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-47965154481158873522024-01-19T00:00:00.030-05:002024-01-19T00:00:00.130-05:00The Beauty Doctor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAANnISeGWGw7OwpTvhrVtH-DM5cSKYDnO9rOLIWmaDK_8azQFXzh_sctCYzP8nQVCHRUB9-OVDAs1jU5o8IBM1Ikrs1aX4h0hItaJYkuSi5fNNpNdhhq4ASnVyQcSrgAhVymsJfxwmz8vFeD3yeU117b7JlmSPWzcSmn5HKRHLWItkydg2M1RHup1bH8/s640/The%20Beauty%20Doctor%20Tour%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAANnISeGWGw7OwpTvhrVtH-DM5cSKYDnO9rOLIWmaDK_8azQFXzh_sctCYzP8nQVCHRUB9-OVDAs1jU5o8IBM1Ikrs1aX4h0hItaJYkuSi5fNNpNdhhq4ASnVyQcSrgAhVymsJfxwmz8vFeD3yeU117b7JlmSPWzcSmn5HKRHLWItkydg2M1RHup1bH8/w640-h360/The%20Beauty%20Doctor%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><h1 style="text-align: left;">The Beauty Doctor an Excerpt</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard</b></span></p><p>“I was wondering if you’ve ever done a nose reconstruction using a forearm flap. They call it the Italian method.” </p><p>He gave her a puzzled look. “Why are you asking?” </p><p>“Because I met a woman who needs such an operation.” </p><p>“Why? What happened to her?” </p><p>“She’s suffering from syphilis. She hasn’t a penny and—” </p><p>His teacup met the saucer with a clank. “This is not a charity hospital, Abigail.”</p><p>“But the poor woman—” </p><p>“Have you lost your senses? I’ve been doing everything possible to build an exclusive beauty practice! You’ve seen the class of people we’re attracting here. Do you think for one minute any respectable woman would want to lie on the same operating table as some lady of the night with a syphilitic nose? I am about to create the most ambitious beauty institute the world has ever seen, and I assure you the sick and indigent will not be among my patients. If that’s the sort of medicine you prefer, then I suggest you join some holy order of sisters and become a missionary.” </p><p>“I merely thought, as a doctor, you’d feel that some small part of your skills might be applied for the benefit of those less fortunate.” </p><p>“If I might nudge your memory, you were the one to object when I fixed the ears of that young street urchin. Certainly, he qualifies as the less fortunate of whom you speak. Look what I did for him! And did I ask for anything in return?” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, my goal is to be recognized as the world’s foremost beauty doctor. Others have different goals that you may consider loftier, and that’s fine. But I’m perfectly satisfied with mine.” </p><p>His words only frustrated her more. “I see little difference between an operation to create beauty and one to restore it.” </p><p>“You may be clever with words, but you’re missing the essence of what beauty surgery is all about. Would anyone look at the result of a nose restoration such as you describe and say, Oh, if only my nose could look like that? No, they would never call a nose like that beautiful.” </p><p>“The important thing is not what others say, but how the patient feels. And I believe that any nose, even an imperfect one, would make the woman in question feel a great deal better about herself.” Impulsively, she seized on something else. “What about the twins? You’re willing to operate on them. Are they the type of clientele you’re hoping to attract to the Institute?” </p><p>“The twins are a unique situation. Obviously, there is much to be gained by operating on them in a public forum. Proving, in the most memorable fashion, the miracles a skilled beauty doctor can achieve. And by the way, for our publicity, the twins are allegedly the secret progeny of foreign royalty. All very hush-hush, of course.” He chuckled, the cleverness of this little intrigue lightening his mood. “As you can see, I intend to compromise none of the Institute’s reputation for exclusivity.” </p><p>He turned back to his reading, signaling the end of their conversation—except for the casual question, “How many patients do we have this afternoon?” </p><p>“None.”</p><p>His head popped up from the paper. “None?” </p><p>Abigail took vengeful pleasure in his dismay. “You sound surprised, but you know things have slowed down considerably.” </p><p>“I suppose. So many of the ladies are away for the summer. And I have been preoccupied as well.” He thought for a moment. “All right, why don’t you place another advertisement in the New York Clipper? A few more of those theater types wouldn’t be such a bad thing in a slow season.” </p><p>Abigail rose from her chair. “Yes, sir,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her with a good deal more force than necessary. </p><p>As she made her way down the narrow hall, thoughts of her father flooded her mind. She couldn’t remember him ever refusing to treat a patient, regardless of their circumstances. Abigail had wanted so much to be like him. The urgency of her desire to help Riana proved that at least a part of her still felt the same. But she was not a doctor. She could do nothing on her own. There were people who needed her, yet she had no way of helping them. As for the twins, they would have surgery tomorrow—unless there was someone who could stop it.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Love this excerpt? Read The Beauty Doctor!</b></span></p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvBMikUinJTI71WAKRqJMjgdswGo1XWJ6mnunGXGGyvT4ZlwX-0U97DLNBBxCgl8eyycvIrrT6GpfnU4Kf9fs_WBYdaMGfbpti-qwmDSsmv-zcxY4JtKPXnzvdAcMWhKfpZwpz2GFSx4_ZJwwRO-VovsguC0coI9f_aRy3AqgYBjKtYFeBRxKDJzv-tA/s1080/IG%20banner%201%20The%20Beauty%20Doctor.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvBMikUinJTI71WAKRqJMjgdswGo1XWJ6mnunGXGGyvT4ZlwX-0U97DLNBBxCgl8eyycvIrrT6GpfnU4Kf9fs_WBYdaMGfbpti-qwmDSsmv-zcxY4JtKPXnzvdAcMWhKfpZwpz2GFSx4_ZJwwRO-VovsguC0coI9f_aRy3AqgYBjKtYFeBRxKDJzv-tA/s320/IG%20banner%201%20The%20Beauty%20Doctor.png" width="320" /></a></i></div><i><br />A Bone-Chilling Mystery-Suspense-Thriller Set in the Edwardian Era</i><p></p><p><i>Finalist, Eric Hoffer Book Award</i></p><p>"Beauty is power," Dr. Rome told her. "And with enough power, one can achieve anything."</p><p>Straightening noses, trimming eyelids, lifting jowls . . . In the year 1907, his revolutionary beauty surgery is considered daring, perhaps dangerous. Still, women want what Dr. Rome promises. Neither is his young assistant Abigail Platford immune to Dr. Rome's persuasive charm.</p><p>Abigail once dreamed of becoming a doctor, though of a much different sort. That dream ended with her father's tragic death from a medical error for which she holds herself responsible. Dr. Rome, who proudly displays his medical degree from Johns Hopkins, seems to believe in her. If he were willing to act as her mentor, might there still be a chance to realize her dream of someday becoming a doctor serving New York City's poor?</p><p>But something feels terribly wrong, as though an insidious evil is closing in. Broken promises, lies, and intrigues abound. The powerful are threatening to destroy the weak, and a doctor's sacred duty hangs in the balance. Abigail no longer knows who to believe; but with Dr. Rome now her mentor and her lover, she desperately wants to trust him.</p><p>Even when she discovers that one of their patients has mysteriously disappeared.</p><p>From bestselling author Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard, a suspenseful work of historical fiction grounded in the social and moral issues of the Edwardian era in America. Second Edition with Author's Preface.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/316BAr" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Get your copy of The Beauty Doctor or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</b></span></a></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Connect with the author</b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-yLNQyGN4_W_2arw2SwL7F7Z26NZPWpOoR1KC7sCWF9fWYD-jknB0LaokK-CORFyf-lVaaKCm4GRYgv88sbUw6yi5rXD_X14nFD6p6eAurS-MrrdpbXbVs-3IdZU6WsI78S28v33-fjnGq84SHW0Y0nWp92IkiDRCGWg4fuQhWZl4mXOA798uRLghzA/s4755/Elizabeth%20Hutchison%20Bernard%20photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4755" data-original-width="3396" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-yLNQyGN4_W_2arw2SwL7F7Z26NZPWpOoR1KC7sCWF9fWYD-jknB0LaokK-CORFyf-lVaaKCm4GRYgv88sbUw6yi5rXD_X14nFD6p6eAurS-MrrdpbXbVs-3IdZU6WsI78S28v33-fjnGq84SHW0Y0nWp92IkiDRCGWg4fuQhWZl4mXOA798uRLghzA/s320/Elizabeth%20Hutchison%20Bernard%20photo.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><br />Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard is the author of bestselling historical novels. Her 2023 release, <i>Sisters of Castle Leod</i>, is an Amazon Kindle #1 Bestseller (Historical Biographical Fiction, Historical Literary Fiction), winner of the 2023 Maxy Award for Historical and Adventure Fiction, and an Editors’ Choice of the Historical Novel Society. Her biographical novel <i>Temptation Rag</i> (2018) was hailed by <i>Publishers Weekly</i> as a “resonant novel . . . about the birth and demise of ragtime . . . in which romance and creative passions abound.” Elizabeth’s 2017 historical mystery-suspense-thriller, <i>The Beauty Doctor</i>, was a finalist for the prestigious Eric Hoffer Book Award. The book’s re-release (Jan. 4, 2024) features a stunning new cover and an Author Preface with insights into social and moral issues of the Edwardian era that frame this shocking fictional story set in the early days of cosmetic surgery. Before becoming a full-time author, Elizabeth was executive editor of an international aesthetic surgery journal, and senior consultant to the National Cosmetic Network in conjunction with Johns Hopkins University’s plastic surgery educational program. Learn more about Elizabeth and her books at <a href="http://www.EHBernard.com">www.EHBernard.com</a>. You can also connect with her on <a href="https://www.X.com/EHBernardAuthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/EHBernardAuthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/EHBernardAuthor" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard/author/B072N681MZ " target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16953486.Elizabeth_Hutchison_Bernard" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>.<p></p><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSuaWIBRShO1VNE2XgJEaLMOU5qsS7MlwmCqOQQkzX1PCPDUAq5GiGuvQHsBvkQFcaB6DB23INgXBJZ-UGd5zwSvyDbg0vcNHggKIYuhH9hVPTFVHAmk3etLwiPI0ZG9usgHMqjpfzLDn9R7UcbEoxXnw5kjpmQWzSLYnkTwBuKg32QZD_-8orBECkT8/s640/The%20Beauty%20Doctor%20Tour%20Schedule.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSuaWIBRShO1VNE2XgJEaLMOU5qsS7MlwmCqOQQkzX1PCPDUAq5GiGuvQHsBvkQFcaB6DB23INgXBJZ-UGd5zwSvyDbg0vcNHggKIYuhH9hVPTFVHAmk3etLwiPI0ZG9usgHMqjpfzLDn9R7UcbEoxXnw5kjpmQWzSLYnkTwBuKg32QZD_-8orBECkT8/w640-h360/The%20Beauty%20Doctor%20Tour%20Schedule.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-72058052797075704052023-12-18T00:00:00.001-05:002023-12-18T00:00:00.179-05:00Beautiful Ghost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrE6SD2m427OVX9BqkP3Mh8tHw2Qa6M0LZ5qLo5cvNKsTMzxafUJr3I__-Hbm00gaO1Wkq_TLNwIhWOvJjz8g7dZc66frBgb2Hm2c5bfRP-z5kOxsqk-xow52hWAiwFY8t9_FrOEUFUs19_GiLZRjZvUHsVANHDhpJ1fp26zGl025U2Od6eDVi8OjM08/s640/Beautiful%20Ghost%20Tour%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrE6SD2m427OVX9BqkP3Mh8tHw2Qa6M0LZ5qLo5cvNKsTMzxafUJr3I__-Hbm00gaO1Wkq_TLNwIhWOvJjz8g7dZc66frBgb2Hm2c5bfRP-z5kOxsqk-xow52hWAiwFY8t9_FrOEUFUs19_GiLZRjZvUHsVANHDhpJ1fp26zGl025U2Od6eDVi8OjM08/w640-h360/Beautiful%20Ghost%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><i>Good morning, dear readers! I have one more wonderful guest post for you this year. If you haven't already, make sure you sign up for my newsletter (should be right above this post) to get the latest updates and subscriber exclusive content starting January 1. It will be here before we know it!</i></p><p><i>My guest today is Milana Marsenich, who has written a moving story about women's lives after World War I. Just when they thought they had faced the worst, the Influenza Pandemic of 1918 hit their Montana town. If you loved <a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous</a>, check out <a href="https://books2read.com/u/m06BOJ " target="_blank">Beautiful Ghost</a>!</i></p><p><i>Welcome, Milana!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><i>Beautiful Ghost</i> an Excerpt</h1><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Guest Post by Milana Marsenich</span></b></p><p>“Come back to the bakery with me and you can see for yourself. Annie doesn’t even know I exist when you are around. You can stay with us. You’ll be safe there.” Kaly heard herself echoing a sentiment Beth had once professed to Kaly. “Come stay at Miss Lottie’s,” her friend had said. “You’ll be safe there.” </p><p>This was different. Kaly looked at the ground. “Besides, we talked about it. You can’t work the line now.” Beth had agreed. The syphilis would infect others, eventually killing them. “Maybe Tara would put you to work.”</p><p>Kaly worked hard in the bakery. At first, she’d waited tables, but soon learned to cook good wholesome food. She cleaned tables and swamped the place at night, shopped, and stocked supplies. Still, she would not be able to make ends meet without Tara’s help and Tommy sending home his army money. </p><p>Beth shook her head. “You know I can’t live on that kind of money. I’ve got a scheme brewing and as soon as it’s ready, you’ll be the first to know.” </p><p>Kaly couldn’t help but feel that she had betrayed and abandoned her friend. So many didn’t have the means to retire that profession. Old prostitutes often died cold and sick on the streets, or at one of the hog ranches for old whores. Those with syphilis did even worse. </p><p>She couldn’t stand to think of that fate for Beth. Beautiful, bold, vivacious Beth. Kaly missed their camaraderie. Beth had been her best friend since she was fourteen. If Kaly had her way, she’d never give her up. But Beth had distanced herself from Kaly since she’d moved in with Tara McClane, and there seemed to be nothing Kaly could do about it. </p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Read more of Beautiful Ghost by Milana Marsenich</h1><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbj36netEK-gstNfCtvfNtHN36Oa4hLSsDE1VI-QqEPnsZOOO71DcdFFC8pcfeArP23-bEHFnwzW7QLN0px6r3A2ZRXu_-XkiovoK3NepqUygILB16tW-CvFgOfHBnW6PFWsejLelB15umzeh2fEx45b_VFpyAhyphenhypheng4yvlsp-BIAfM4X_dJl_fNDEfSy5Y/s1080/IG%20banner%201%20Beautiful%20Ghost.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbj36netEK-gstNfCtvfNtHN36Oa4hLSsDE1VI-QqEPnsZOOO71DcdFFC8pcfeArP23-bEHFnwzW7QLN0px6r3A2ZRXu_-XkiovoK3NepqUygILB16tW-CvFgOfHBnW6PFWsejLelB15umzeh2fEx45b_VFpyAhyphenhypheng4yvlsp-BIAfM4X_dJl_fNDEfSy5Y/s320/IG%20banner%201%20Beautiful%20Ghost.png" width="320" /></a></div><b>During the fall of 1918, the influenza pandemic crosses the nation and reaches the mining town of Butte, Montana. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Marika Jovich, who wants to go to school to become a physician, works menial tasks for Dr. Fletcher. She feels useless as she tries to save friends and neighbors from the ravages of the flu. In the midst of the pandemic, she watches the town shut down, young and old perish, and her medical dreams all but evaporate.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kaly Monroe used to be a half-good woman of the night. She left that life to raise her daughter, Annie, and live and work with her long-lost mother, Tara McClane. Kaly waits for her husband, Tommy, to return from the war. Word from the east is that soldiers are dying of influenza and she prays that Tommy is not one of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>When an out-of-town woman named Amelia suddenly dies in Dr. Fletcher's office, both women try to learn more about the mysterious woman and the circumstances regarding her death. Is she another casualty of the pandemic, or the victim of manmade foul play? Who is this stranger, and is her demise a portent of the fate that awaits the residents of Butte?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Praise for Beautiful Ghost:</b></div><div> </div><div>“Marsenich doesn't just describe the place and times, she conjures it up like time travel.” </div><div><i>~ Amazon Review by Ellen Leahy Howell</i></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/m06BOJ" target="_blank">Get your copy of Beautiful Ghost</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: left;">Connect with Milana Marsenich</h1><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3pQzbHxdfn1jhBK0oBD0Pnm9TulzktW9Su4Oz4k11-hYLrOAyvlG_Es-mVNYR84_WjJXSMU75QIqlPiaTluqRfihc04I2c930MY0e-aIRBD3LjDFy7yY2X1X0L61qXU5qbtKJnLEhMG5Klgot7Jq47bVRIRrebZCuXFdFb6rt9uKZm1L5RLFzmLK470/s2500/Milana%20Marsenich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3pQzbHxdfn1jhBK0oBD0Pnm9TulzktW9Su4Oz4k11-hYLrOAyvlG_Es-mVNYR84_WjJXSMU75QIqlPiaTluqRfihc04I2c930MY0e-aIRBD3LjDFy7yY2X1X0L61qXU5qbtKJnLEhMG5Klgot7Jq47bVRIRrebZCuXFdFb6rt9uKZm1L5RLFzmLK470/s320/Milana%20Marsenich.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Award winning author, Milana Marsenich lives in Northwest Montana near Flathead Lake at the base of the beautiful Mission Mountains. She enjoys quick access to the mountains and has spent many hours hiking the wilderness trails with friends and dogs. For the past 20 years she has worked as a mental health therapist in a variety of settings. As a natural listener and a therapist, she has witnessed amazing generosity and courage in others. She first witnessed this in her hometown of Butte, Montana, a mining town with a rich history and the setting for <i>Copper Sky</i>, her first novel. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><i>Copper Sky</i> was chosen as a Spur Award finalist for Best Western Historical Novel in 2018. Her second novel, <i>The Swan Keeper</i>, was a Willa Award finalist in 2019. Her short story,<i> Wild Dogs</i>, won the Laura Award for short fiction in 2020. </div><div><br /></div><div>She has an M.Ed. in Mental Health Counseling from Montana State University and an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Montana. She has previously published in <i>Montana Quarterly, Big Sky Journal, The Polishing Stone, The Moronic Ox, BookGlow,</i> and <i>Feminist Studies</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>She has three published novels, <i>Copper Sky, The Swan Keeper</i>, and <i>Beautiful Ghost</i>, and one popular history book, <i>Idaho Madams</i>. Her upcoming novel, <i>Shed Girl: A Juliet French Novel</i>, will be released January 2024. Her popular history book,<i> Mary MacLane: Butte’s Wild Woman and her Wooden Heart</i>, will be out sometime in 2025. </div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Milana on her <a href="https://milanamarsenich.com/" target="_blank">Website</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/milanamarsenich" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MilanaMarsenichAuthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/milanammarsenich/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/milanamarsenich/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>, <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/milana-marsenich" target="_blank">Book Bub</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Milana-Marsenich/author/B07DTJRR2K/" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, or <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/16544640.Milana_Marsenich" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-beautiful-ghost-by-milana-marsenich.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCI6h-StXvAa5lNhK4QXqwZ50C2j7w8FKz2bRANqPI1cTkYJztJfU_6Ckjk6Ny5bX9AVkE82HsSjDr2JqTcUPSe6gE0Ox7udEKWYOlzVwc8xCIgRRk5yfKR0eLqd5HbE3MZpRKyWrQqzf5OqzGij48_n-QEqczU-gQ9yTcbKp5MejzRJOAtRab-xiFA0Q/w640-h360/Beautiful%20Ghost%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-62534615620473432752023-12-16T00:00:00.000-05:002023-12-16T00:00:00.134-05:00Historic Places: Montpelier<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0eVIaYAFvT7rsFhuXLxrKeB5vpLiAWyXGPAX30UjNQjjTsmgP7QiYiIcp7edNJUBhTDlNiN9tvzrXqbyimFi2DEg-3LiSbOtvCRXW3NkUd1TUKD7ozJL1PeBUVZDh7s5qa_s5lvopU-sHj-cD1Bc4HQYpfm8gkMPKU3BXj16ASK_QObTOgoUGci8beQo/s6000/DSC_0287.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0eVIaYAFvT7rsFhuXLxrKeB5vpLiAWyXGPAX30UjNQjjTsmgP7QiYiIcp7edNJUBhTDlNiN9tvzrXqbyimFi2DEg-3LiSbOtvCRXW3NkUd1TUKD7ozJL1PeBUVZDh7s5qa_s5lvopU-sHj-cD1Bc4HQYpfm8gkMPKU3BXj16ASK_QObTOgoUGci8beQo/w640-h426/DSC_0287.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />It's been a while since I've made an entry to my Historic Places blog series, so I've been going through my photos and travel journals to decide what to share next. When I saw that my last entry was Mount Vernon, I decided we should take a virtual trip to James Madison's Montpelier.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqfpMYaUWDj9YQCNUQXUdAM-qaV9iWsiS97F0TUrNgTv-B3ypKVjtp7V7SkmiKagdjFVe7DMP-dyf9IEvkhqferUHKemM4dZTLBX_f52HCFtO2oadlrITfRjD3skkmAGvEmy86qVGAOwrcXsgGaFocxpVAoZ0zfiijClKv0RcoXkkq4SoKi_ypTdkotI/s6000/James%20Madison's%20Montpelier.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqfpMYaUWDj9YQCNUQXUdAM-qaV9iWsiS97F0TUrNgTv-B3ypKVjtp7V7SkmiKagdjFVe7DMP-dyf9IEvkhqferUHKemM4dZTLBX_f52HCFtO2oadlrITfRjD3skkmAGvEmy86qVGAOwrcXsgGaFocxpVAoZ0zfiijClKv0RcoXkkq4SoKi_ypTdkotI/w400-h266/James%20Madison's%20Montpelier.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>The Great Little Madison, Father of the Constitution, fourth president of the United States, grew up at Montpelier, though not in the grand house that stands there today. James Madison was born 16 March 1751, before the mansion was built and his family lived in a cottage that once stood approximately half-mile south. The central portion of the mansion was built during James's childhood and was added onto throughout the proceeding decades.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGA7FD_92hQg_JafaBMS_9UpKx3-SMKYhdJNx8snFp1IIQr1d12JnEESD2-TLULloi2DMqR5O3Nw5ztdLh9rRLOWEPnOxTMTYl6gG53d82mv6HywZwCDV4_W1FF8BFEv7KsscB3xH9cmrjGZgMwfEBVP2KuGwE-xCTgTGe9R-Hog7yiPKReA2E-rDhNI/s6000/DSC_0292.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGA7FD_92hQg_JafaBMS_9UpKx3-SMKYhdJNx8snFp1IIQr1d12JnEESD2-TLULloi2DMqR5O3Nw5ztdLh9rRLOWEPnOxTMTYl6gG53d82mv6HywZwCDV4_W1FF8BFEv7KsscB3xH9cmrjGZgMwfEBVP2KuGwE-xCTgTGe9R-Hog7yiPKReA2E-rDhNI/w400-h266/DSC_0292.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>The home belonged to his parents, and James was often away through the early years of the country's history. When he returned to Montpelier after his presidency in 1817, the mansion was divided into separate households, complete with their own entry doors, one for James's mother and the other for James and his wife, Dolley. The house is presented today as it was during the 1820s. The space is designed for conversation and study, just as one might expect of a home owned by James and Dolley Madison.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOg2rQehqYlm3K1WMWFr7C0cT2zCLcf9lgzXU-pekCizmeMj3-aIIc1kE3KpXE_HLLtqfsTppVWAZKDRRHbM9yqAWdO16qYAU1BAUbzAtzpkY7f0HSmgxs_oJ0ajVgZouCaHFsrw6FaJtanl7tnRO3DK4A-T8e3Zfgil8kqN3AFFAcfmJbH1V4QPB1ja0/s6000/DSC_0298.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOg2rQehqYlm3K1WMWFr7C0cT2zCLcf9lgzXU-pekCizmeMj3-aIIc1kE3KpXE_HLLtqfsTppVWAZKDRRHbM9yqAWdO16qYAU1BAUbzAtzpkY7f0HSmgxs_oJ0ajVgZouCaHFsrw6FaJtanl7tnRO3DK4A-T8e3Zfgil8kqN3AFFAcfmJbH1V4QPB1ja0/w400-h266/DSC_0298.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>My favorite room of the home is the study, where visitors can imagine James passionately working on his plans for a new Constitution. A window provides a view of the front lawn, giving James notice of visitors or simply a place to allow his gaze to wander while his mind was at work. And his books! Letters written during James's lifetime reference a study so full of books and piles of papers that one can scarcely walk between them, and some of that collection remains today.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVkIceeMflZ7X8VMpCjrnURkLPeSGF0QevQYBKFbgqCpmzUIEzISbX_-puwLOSqe7gFaT-OfvTm4oJS4CAk81FdXXRbptxw2H_T0zW5wlTmvgm-z75CZdxE8X3NDShnCqBH8FCx_BQ94LcQbUbmRNMwao38HsVxijA-i903wXEZz01Kc6zl6vAf5xNeQ/s6000/DSC_0300.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVkIceeMflZ7X8VMpCjrnURkLPeSGF0QevQYBKFbgqCpmzUIEzISbX_-puwLOSqe7gFaT-OfvTm4oJS4CAk81FdXXRbptxw2H_T0zW5wlTmvgm-z75CZdxE8X3NDShnCqBH8FCx_BQ94LcQbUbmRNMwao38HsVxijA-i903wXEZz01Kc6zl6vAf5xNeQ/w400-h266/DSC_0300.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>James died at Montpelier on 28 June 1836, declining physicians' offers to attempt to prolong his life until July 4th. Three US presidents had coincidentally passed away on the 4th of July, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson in 1826, and James Monroe in 1831. James Madison was content to allow God to choose his time, and he is buried on the grounds at Montpelier.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42JevInBdlpXiAlbiY6aPUZ8SQhIhILYQ_AyBgm6Lm6rEXrI6ua4FNpnP9Ht1YbLbTK65v_blgZ2gfgvNLXa1cfIb0zYpNXxjIBbeaM-KaJRzTPAkMnj7RmyNSOgAqjVScYztWVcRzxM7SX1yOPMovBtOowVxbxWSoNL2xkUtjzML36GiZlOf41S02j4/s4383/DSC_0308edited.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4383" data-original-width="3570" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42JevInBdlpXiAlbiY6aPUZ8SQhIhILYQ_AyBgm6Lm6rEXrI6ua4FNpnP9Ht1YbLbTK65v_blgZ2gfgvNLXa1cfIb0zYpNXxjIBbeaM-KaJRzTPAkMnj7RmyNSOgAqjVScYztWVcRzxM7SX1yOPMovBtOowVxbxWSoNL2xkUtjzML36GiZlOf41S02j4/w326-h400/DSC_0308edited.JPG" width="326" /></a></div><br /><p>Dolley Madison was forced to sell Montpelier in 1844. The plantation did not earn enough profit to support itself, and her son, Payne, was constantly draining her of cash. Dolley died in Washington DC in 1849, and was buried in the Congressional Cemetery. Her remains were later reinterred at Montpelier. The monument directly behind James's is hers.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvahf6eGjcf-Swbd_-lw4mwrav0ptFrWwikHCu3-14vXhC-70emAbv4_TYcnnARLV6mfqdmkhd9w9lwLJ80UTFRrktNlHQ5BKNyk9tdlIBFxAiYchaUe9hKejjEwZvl-hyqSvQciZUIPdWYdG6j8vezkAWkYVPBdXTEKByDkbzRyQT66pT_HVA-ElzHTA/s6000/James%20and%20Dolley%20Madison.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvahf6eGjcf-Swbd_-lw4mwrav0ptFrWwikHCu3-14vXhC-70emAbv4_TYcnnARLV6mfqdmkhd9w9lwLJ80UTFRrktNlHQ5BKNyk9tdlIBFxAiYchaUe9hKejjEwZvl-hyqSvQciZUIPdWYdG6j8vezkAWkYVPBdXTEKByDkbzRyQT66pT_HVA-ElzHTA/s320/James%20and%20Dolley%20Madison.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p>Montpelier might not have the big budget of Mount Vernon, but it has been carefully restored and has a lot to offer visitors, including a fantastic guided tour, walking paths, gardens, and informative exhibits. They also have a nice little gift shop, where I may or may not have spent too much on books. Have you visited?</p><p>(All photos taken by Samantha Wilcoxson.)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ptXr-4le7BDwX-ofLovzaPE9wwuaExF5zP-lbrICJKf7S5gqL0Fywbpc8XXjK_GZijOjZCUuXeOtbU8qZWA6uPFSWCQ0tjOxrjid8yQnq6ptGjYm7O9pSc6nBJ2D2O3UVZUVzFpc6yzc8_5vgDXzTzgdgMjiCDyTkY9L0Gur5POp8o1RdN7XC3Vk1rs/s1108/20220925_195733000_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="969" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ptXr-4le7BDwX-ofLovzaPE9wwuaExF5zP-lbrICJKf7S5gqL0Fywbpc8XXjK_GZijOjZCUuXeOtbU8qZWA6uPFSWCQ0tjOxrjid8yQnq6ptGjYm7O9pSc6nBJ2D2O3UVZUVzFpc6yzc8_5vgDXzTzgdgMjiCDyTkY9L0Gur5POp8o1RdN7XC3Vk1rs/s320/20220925_195733000_iOS.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>Learn more about Dolley Madison in my <i>Women of the American Revolution</i>! It is available at <a href="https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/Women-of-the-American-Revolution-Hardback/p/21690" target="_blank">Pen & Sword</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Women-American-Revolution-Samantha-Wilcoxson-ebook/dp/B0BHBQSZVG/" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Women-American-Revolution-Samantha-Wilcoxson/9781399001007" target="_blank">Book Depository</a>, <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/women-of-the-american-revolution-samantha-wilcoxson/1141382084" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a>, or your favorite book retailer. <p></p><p></p><div>Also available now at <a href="https://www.audible.com/pd/Women-of-the-American-Revolution-Audiobook/B0BTJ81MB8" target="_blank">Audible</a> and <a href="https://www.audiobooks.com/audiobook/women-of-the-american-revolution/646196">audiobooks.com</a>!</div><div><p>You can also find <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/Women%20of%20the%20American%20Revolution" target="_blank">more articles here.</a></p><p>Join me on your preferred social media for daily fun facts, on this day in history posts, and lots of pictures!</p><p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p><p><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/carpe_librum" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p></div><p><br /></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-68702519843323152852023-12-12T00:00:00.001-05:002023-12-12T00:00:00.137-05:00Women of the Old West<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPHN-GpZNnSL9jHwM267rmiracVCe8KgyAUhNAmJSDwcdZLcKA-KeYQzHuA9P8uOOpVe52uT-9WQviwbVm_ubzX_rgawTm6CmsOqiWPaAEFYLBY-p6e7NJ5zFkUuh6bKD51EwlzXJttFiI1b0vbBMb5WqAiC9jfdF9ey-5AwlyRXROU1U-Kbt38BQBqk/s640/The%20Redemption%20of%20Mattie%20Silks%20Tour%20Banner%201.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPHN-GpZNnSL9jHwM267rmiracVCe8KgyAUhNAmJSDwcdZLcKA-KeYQzHuA9P8uOOpVe52uT-9WQviwbVm_ubzX_rgawTm6CmsOqiWPaAEFYLBY-p6e7NJ5zFkUuh6bKD51EwlzXJttFiI1b0vbBMb5WqAiC9jfdF9ey-5AwlyRXROU1U-Kbt38BQBqk/w640-h360/The%20Redemption%20of%20Mattie%20Silks%20Tour%20Banner%201.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><i>One of the things I love about studying history is learning about women who did more than they ever thought they could under astonishing circumstances. American history is full of examples of this, from the Revolution and growing pains of a new nation, through civil war and western expansion. In the 1800s, it took a lot of courage and grit to move away from the settled east coast. My guest today gives us a glimpse of that world and an introduction to her book, <b><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mlpKRv " target="_blank">The Redemption of Mattie Silks</a></b>.</i></p><p><i>Welcome, Kimberly Burns!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Women of the Old West</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Kimberly Burns</b></span></p><p><br /></p><p>Women of the Old West were pioneers and trailblazers, but not just in the sense that they gave up their homes and trekked into the wilderness. They also blazed trails in business, were pioneers of medicine and groundbreakers in politics.</p><p>Remember the old US Army advertising campaign: "We do more before 9AM than most people do all day"? My great-grandmother could have given any soldier a run for their money. With a baby on her hip and five more little ones trailing behind, she packed her valuables into a wagon and walked from North Carolina to Colorado. She spent the rest of her life on a homestead in the Colorado foothills, keeping the house and raising three more babies while also completing a man’s day’s work out on the range. She may have accomplished more before any given sunrise than I do in a good year. Sadly, stories of her and other remarkable but unknown heroines are being lost in the fog of history. </p><p>There were few acceptable careers for women in the 1800s, and certainly none that created wealth. Most working women struggled on subsistence earnings as laundresses, cooks, maids, or teachers. But in the West, where survival often depended on everyone pulling their weight, women could not afford to be shrinking violets. Their husbands and communities needed all hands to pitch in. The move west wrenched women from the customs, conventions, standards, and traditions with which they had been raised. They had to develop new codes of acceptable behavior, dress, and mores. In my novel <i>The Mrs. Tabor</i>, a local madam explains that a woman alone can act with the highest decorum and in the end, she will politely starve to death. The madam warns, “The law of survival always trumps the rules of etiquette.”</p><p>The need for labor gave Western women opportunities to create careers that their sisters in the East did not have. Women were often good with livestock, and ran cattle ranches, bred horses, or drove pack mules. It is estimated that 15% of homesteaders were single women. In an era when women could not sign a legal contract or open a bank account, female entrepreneurs owned restaurants, stores, and hotels in frontier towns. </p><p>In the mining boomtowns, most men preferred prospecting to planning infrastructure. This opened the door for the few women there to participate in government and improve the living conditions for their families and communities. In fact, many Old West towns lacked a school and church until the females organized the funding and building of these cultural institutions. White men may have explored the West, but white women settled it.</p><p>Western women also participated in politics decades before the constitution was amended to allow voting for all, regardless of sex. Wyoming Territory passed a women’s voting act in 1869, and the gals got right to work. Within a year the territory had female jury members, a bailiff and a justice of the peace. Other states and territories west of the Mississippi soon followed suit and women were voting in Colorado by 1893 and in Utah by 1896. </p><p>In a region where males greatly outnumbered females, some lonely men were of the opinion that woman’s suffrage might attract quality marriage candidates. Daring and hardy adventuresses would be drawn to a new life in the Wild West if they had a hand in shaping it. Delicate flowers accustomed to a steady life of comfort need not apply. </p><p>When their Eastern sisters were marching for the right to vote in matching white dresses, Western women were campaigning to be elected to public office themselves. All-lady town councils were elected in Oskaloosa, Kansas (1888) and Kanab, Utah (1912). In 1920, the same year that the 19th Amendment was finally ratified, Jackson, Wyoming elected an all-female mayor and city council. One of their descendants wrote, “There was a practical approach to it. [They said] we need this and we’ll do it ourselves.” Dubbed the Petticoat Rulers, they extended electric service, installed street lights, grated streets, created a town cemetery, collected taxes, and appointed a (female) town treasurer, marshal, and health officer. </p><p>Medical schools were graduating a handful of token female doctors in the late 1800s. Many of those found acceptance in the rough western territories. Perhaps citizens felt a lady doctor was better than no doctor at all. The television show <i>Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman</i> was loosely based on the life of Doc Susie who served small mountain towns in the Colorado Rockies from 1893 until 1956. Imagine the patients she must have treated in a region filled with wild animals and wilder men. Her story and that of a few other early medical professionals are noted in state historical society collections, but most are unknown in the wider world.</p><p>Some women found work on the wrong side of the law. Pearl Hart robbed stagecoaches. Belle Star led a gang of cattle rustlers. Sing Choy, also known as China Mary, controlled the opium dens and Chinese prostitution in old Tombstone. The main character of my latest book, Mattie Silks, used her sharp business acumen to run one of Denver’s most successful brothels for over forty years.</p><p>Regardless of where they found employment, the women of the Old West displayed an incredible work ethic and courage enough to fill a library with adventure stories. But there is another, less glamorous trait they seemed to possess — pragmatism. If there was work to be done, they simply got to it. I don’t think many of the women who settled the wild frontier took any time to reflect on accomplishments or bask in any congratulatory accolades. There were few philosophical debates about equality of ability or opportunity. They were too busy, living by the motto, “Get ’er done!”</p><p><br /></p><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQQRfpB_aORtF0CWmokJq0j_9bfe7_gadmXxPUDiz2QSa28RgJlBQwVwhc2e4by6lteWBw4_qDzZEf6ZHAN01hRj0Ofw3XsUAMuXstysjSZ3DwajpU6lvWjuu7CXIdepOScYFnqCNvqQDv9Omu4quCTEUywtUi1K4SNdR61IYTfxHWRxAUhvmnX73fso/s2550/Mattie%20Silks%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1643" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQQRfpB_aORtF0CWmokJq0j_9bfe7_gadmXxPUDiz2QSa28RgJlBQwVwhc2e4by6lteWBw4_qDzZEf6ZHAN01hRj0Ofw3XsUAMuXstysjSZ3DwajpU6lvWjuu7CXIdepOScYFnqCNvqQDv9Omu4quCTEUywtUi1K4SNdR61IYTfxHWRxAUhvmnX73fso/s320/Mattie%20Silks%20cover.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>The Redemption of Mattie Silks</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div>SEEKING REDEMPTION, SHE FINDS RETRIBUTION</div><div> </div><div>In 1892, running one of the West’s fanciest brothels is a rough game. In a town filled with brazen criminals, corrupt police, zealous politicians, and morality committees, Madam Mattie Silks makes her fortune catering to Colorado’s gold and silver millionaires.</div><div><br /></div><div>Notorious crime boss “Soapy” Smith is at the top of the Denver underworld. There are no rules for Smith’s gang. They solve problems with bribes and bullets. When Mattie’s husband stumbles into Soapy’s dealings, she struggles to protect him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gold is discovered in the Yukon and Mattie seizes the opportunity for adventure and profit. But Skagway, Alaska, is even more lawless than Denver. Mattie must use all her business sense and street smarts to safeguard those she cares about. Will it be enough? Or will Lady Justice again turn a blind eye?</div><div><br /></div><div>Based on a true story, <i>The Redemption of Mattie Silks</i> is an action-packed tale of a woman succeeding in a man’s world even when the cards are stacked against her.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>“The research on the era shines through, as do the grit and spirit of the characters. …A colorful and enthralling journey.” </i></div><div>~ K.T. Blakemore, award-winning author of <i>The Good Time Girls</i> series</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mlpKRv " target="_blank">Get your copy of <i>The Redemption of Mattie Silks</i></a></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mlpKRv " target="_blank">or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with Kimberly Burns</span></b></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKib3uZxk3yttWATNiwhCA8p2v2yEn6EkQL2bl7hwNgY39_ANA0Sew1Q_0JWslPfg2l0K0jeSjsmG-qWVm4nj58v-Iw30K8n9u01VkpTT6CgWbJ_3OkpNhDLldOLES64s7xBieAGkQKlGsyFKLNXyMR2a8nWz4NM48Cryr9HzZWSyg6lSgzdCnK5_Bky4/s3600/Kimberly%20Burns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKib3uZxk3yttWATNiwhCA8p2v2yEn6EkQL2bl7hwNgY39_ANA0Sew1Q_0JWslPfg2l0K0jeSjsmG-qWVm4nj58v-Iw30K8n9u01VkpTT6CgWbJ_3OkpNhDLldOLES64s7xBieAGkQKlGsyFKLNXyMR2a8nWz4NM48Cryr9HzZWSyg6lSgzdCnK5_Bky4/s320/Kimberly%20Burns.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />Kimberly Burns grew up in Colorado hearing stories about the colorful characters of the Old West. She has degrees from the University of Colorado and the University of Hartford. Kimberly is a member of the Historical Novel Society, Western Writers of America, and Women Writing the West. She lives with her husband and black Lab in Leesburg, Virginia.</div><div><br /></div><div>Her debut novel <i>The Mrs. Tabor</i> won numerous awards including the Western Fictioneers Peacemaker Award for Best New Novel, a gold medal for Best Regional Fiction from the Independent Publisher Book Awards, a National Indie Excellence Award, and a silver medal from the Colorado Independent Publishers Association EVVY Awards.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kimberly and her unruly heroines make for an entertaining book talk. She is available to discuss her novels with book groups in person or online. Email her at info@kimberlyburnsauthor.com.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Kimberly through her <a href="www.kimberlyburnsauthor.com " target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100072454670660 " target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kimberlyburnsauthor/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Kimberly-Burns/author/B09G4S8N2L " target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21851914.Kimberly_Burns" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-redemption-of-mattie-silks-by-kimberly-burns.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_jInai8y5-dh9urM_yc4B8GaB2xV-n5yIay_lOH5ivSCI2d5Dqh4Marku-m9_eoJCEjkKE969GbkLgHmH1o_DyozJ353tOQHC2dwRjXOp2nF-bbmGfbjt_IJXggbsNcJqPDprilNSVX03xRRtu-XC1W67foSDlT_hTcfn5LcvsSp7WxJYSUKTSB7ULBo/w640-h360/The%20Redemption%20of%20Mattie%20Silks%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-62338901397293339522023-12-09T08:20:00.000-05:002023-12-09T08:20:10.441-05:00What I'm Reading: The Wharton Plot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpEd5BGJ-t07Kx35F3D5hT-BAS06TIdsV3tSsscM8egqv5TW5XlNIN9kuS577HABmqemvsScmYEducnkGsk3lO2G-IMiRKEwyDQpZjx9RTe-EpKHTCOMIlTGeFEUKuLT8F4RZLxP8r4MY6bNeL_mcDgBhQds6c6CkE-L5VNZ1LHSkzRABuYuJXMmEFVs/s1600/Wharton%20Plot.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpEd5BGJ-t07Kx35F3D5hT-BAS06TIdsV3tSsscM8egqv5TW5XlNIN9kuS577HABmqemvsScmYEducnkGsk3lO2G-IMiRKEwyDQpZjx9RTe-EpKHTCOMIlTGeFEUKuLT8F4RZLxP8r4MY6bNeL_mcDgBhQds6c6CkE-L5VNZ1LHSkzRABuYuJXMmEFVs/w640-h360/Wharton%20Plot.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Last month, I posted the<a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-middle-generation.html" target="_blank"> first book review on my blog</a> and decided to make it a habit. This month, I would like to introduce you to <i>The Wharton Plot</i>, a novel by Mariah Fredericks.</p><p>My dear readers might know that I adore Edith Wharton. In fact, when tasked with writing a ghost story, the first thing I did was reread my favorites by Wharton, including <i>Afterward</i>. With the goal of creating a story in a similar style, I wrote <i><a href="http://mybook.to/HauntingsAnth" target="_blank">Among the Lost</a></i> set in 1927 Northern Michigan.</p><p><i>The Lindburgh Nanny</i> was my introduction to the writing of Mariah Fredericks, and you can <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4897483864" target="_blank">read what I thought about it here.</a> Clearly, I enjoyed it enough to jump at the chance to read an early copy of her newest novel. When I received an email from Minotaur Books asking if I’d like to read <i>The Wharton Plot</i>, I said, “Solving a mystery with Edith Wharton? Yes, please!”</p><p>Historical facts not treated as spoilers.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq045gXFgX_oWWrE4ErduK926X-mGIs7-UQxoukzcmWMxc8tyrH195diU85RTngseMIxPtEaeT15kQ6kidlpCB230zj9_X_ovtE5jc3Jn9eP_FyPSbmZiaTdtlimUUxUUPFPt_ak2iomJ9KOBZ2RlZHvgT854KWNwL_Dvvw4HUIWXNYqGbGiNm5IXgVfM/s2048/120213_r21835_g2048.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1435" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq045gXFgX_oWWrE4ErduK926X-mGIs7-UQxoukzcmWMxc8tyrH195diU85RTngseMIxPtEaeT15kQ6kidlpCB230zj9_X_ovtE5jc3Jn9eP_FyPSbmZiaTdtlimUUxUUPFPt_ak2iomJ9KOBZ2RlZHvgT854KWNwL_Dvvw4HUIWXNYqGbGiNm5IXgVfM/s320/120213_r21835_g2048.webp" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edith Wharton<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Since dear Mrs Wharton did not actually have anything to do with investigating the murder of writer David Graham Phillips, this novel is purely fiction, but it was fun to spend time with one of my favorite classic authors in Gilded Age New York. Historically, the murder required no investigation, because the killer was known straight away. If you don’t know who it was or what happened, I won’t give it away here. Fredericks creates a gap in time between the murder and the discovery of the killer in order to take Mrs Wharton on an adventure.<p></p><p>I’m normally a purist when it comes to historical fiction, but Fredericks adjustments to the facts in this case don’t change much at the core of the story and enable the reader to get a good look at the senseless tragedy through Edith Wharton’s eyes.</p><p>When Edith wonders that Phillips was gunned down in broad daylight in the middle of the street, her friend makes some derogatory comments about guns, which I thought might have been an anachronistic attitude. However, when I did a bit of research after finishing the book, I learned that this case did actually spur one of America's early gun control laws. It's always nice to learn something when reading historical fiction!</p><p>Just how does a middle-aged author end up obsessed with solving the murder of a fellow author whom she just met and didn’t like? <i>“She was aware that she would rather spend the afternoon with the corpse of a man she detested rather than her living, breathing husband.” </i>The failing relationship of the Whartons and women’s limited options in life – even if you’re a woman with Edith Wharton’s resources – are secondary themes in this book and are well done. I could go on about challenges that women still face in this day of being able and <i>expected</i> to do it all, but I have a book review to write.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOZggOdyAqq2hCiOrc6SeLcjFvbKhaU7Z0v0zO6d_rQRoU5HJ5TsUopbKnksiiqkD3kMRsLYD6A3cWo97pn3IoHykvM6SRuCgfjsrk4gU4KIkQ1tayvmXQIYCJxjxj-7cG6fiecGpiN1EE4yZLKO2-xjPQZWARra0YEqxJGt-c3w6k9P3dBDcfgLJU0c/s630/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="487" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOZggOdyAqq2hCiOrc6SeLcjFvbKhaU7Z0v0zO6d_rQRoU5HJ5TsUopbKnksiiqkD3kMRsLYD6A3cWo97pn3IoHykvM6SRuCgfjsrk4gU4KIkQ1tayvmXQIYCJxjxj-7cG6fiecGpiN1EE4yZLKO2-xjPQZWARra0YEqxJGt-c3w6k9P3dBDcfgLJU0c/s320/images.jpeg" width="247" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Graham Phillips<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Edith is initially not impressed by the victim's sister's theory that he was killed by someone trying to halt the publication of his latest novel. <i>"This was why radicals were so irritating. To persuade themselves of their importance, they insisted the entire world was involved in a vast intrigue to thwart them."</i> She investigates a few theories of her own, and through her actions the reader gets a glimpse at The Four Hundred and their shallow interactions and maneuverings. As Edith looks at them with fresh eyes in her search for a killer, she realizes how much they get away with due to their deep pockets. Could one of them have wanted Phillips dead?<p></p><p>He wrote the sort of stories that made people angry, exposing political payoffs and scandalous social lives. Edith is warned to stop digging, which only makes her more eager to discover the elusive truth.<i> "Do not write this. What words could be more provocative to a writer? What clearer sign that there was a story here to write?"</i></p><p>Edith isn't sure who killed Phillips, but she is sure that it has something to do with his writing. Even when one dismissed suspect claims it's a crazy theory because no one cares about books. <i>"The calm assertion that books did not matter was such heresy to her that she had no idea how to refute it."</i> I couldn't agree more, Edith.</p><p>Of course, Mrs Wharton does find her killer in a dramatic ending, but that is all I will say about that, so that you can enjoy <i>The Wharton Plot</i> yourself when it is released in January 2024!</p><p>Curious about what else I'm reading? <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/samanthajw" target="_blank">Join me on Goodreads</a> or see what other books I have reviewed <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/search/label/book%20club" target="_blank">here</a> on my blog.</p><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-48694883106636296382023-12-04T00:00:00.080-05:002023-12-04T00:00:00.141-05:00How to Dress Like a Tudor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5issRd4SvurBXeUgGWAV8IVWOM20yAqM8oDLigVvhyN54QPcofKgRCJLhVdpTTotwq6zil9iHVXYD4K9lBj4frgF4HD0Nv_j1y1iFnL4jEmlgNBfSfEr1PkJ2GVp70wjeUgNJMS20MYt2bW2E0y3ZGfjMYLZ9phz3eOmeDuUxwMQIl4OLjxRYlwEJi0A/s640/How%20To%20Dress%20Like%20A%20Tudor%20Tour%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5issRd4SvurBXeUgGWAV8IVWOM20yAqM8oDLigVvhyN54QPcofKgRCJLhVdpTTotwq6zil9iHVXYD4K9lBj4frgF4HD0Nv_j1y1iFnL4jEmlgNBfSfEr1PkJ2GVp70wjeUgNJMS20MYt2bW2E0y3ZGfjMYLZ9phz3eOmeDuUxwMQIl4OLjxRYlwEJi0A/w640-h360/How%20To%20Dress%20Like%20A%20Tudor%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><i>I am excited to feature author Judith Arnopp today! I have been friends with Judith for several years and am excited about her latest book, <b><a href="http://mybook.to/howtodress" target="_blank">How to Dress Like a Tudor</a></b>. She has joined me here on the blog before, once with <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2017/03/why-margaret-beaufort.html" target="_blank">a popular article about Margaret Beaufort</a> and more recently with <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2021/05/the-physical-prowess-of-henry-viii.html" target="_blank">a look at Henry VIII</a>. If you love all things Tudor, you will love this one too!</i></p><p><i>Welcome, Judith!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">How to Dress Like a Tudor</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Judith Arnopp</b></span></p><p>Have you ever hankered to dress like a Tudor lord or lady, or perhaps you prefer the status of goodwife, or costermonger, or even a bawd? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF346oOMa4IBJ53caFTGJaCQuOTjdAUrlCbBcjox3pzw38zTcNvnMau_sDFkPELJbG2T_0nB2TOewharrqD_J5fqMHqf7i4DG2NVfpbu84ppiFzEa5AI9Q7Lzvfij4MXsn2M82A4f7phnY5P2kjMVEZpsqRW4esYdRl6_bcR1QJuDrpOIJMP2VRTC7g5k/s1080/IG%20banner%201%20How%20To%20Dress%20Like%20A%20Tudor.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF346oOMa4IBJ53caFTGJaCQuOTjdAUrlCbBcjox3pzw38zTcNvnMau_sDFkPELJbG2T_0nB2TOewharrqD_J5fqMHqf7i4DG2NVfpbu84ppiFzEa5AI9Q7Lzvfij4MXsn2M82A4f7phnY5P2kjMVEZpsqRW4esYdRl6_bcR1QJuDrpOIJMP2VRTC7g5k/s320/IG%20banner%201%20How%20To%20Dress%20Like%20A%20Tudor.png" width="320" /></a></div>For beginner historical reenactors, the path to authenticity can be bewildering and sometimes intimidating. Judith Arnopp uses her own experience, both as a historian and a medieval/Tudor lady, to make your own journey a little easier.<p></p><p>The author traces the transition of fashion from the relatively subtle styles popular at the court of Henry VII, through the carefully constructed royal grandeur of Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Mary I to the pinnacle of majesty and splendid iconography of Elizabeth I. </p><p>In contrast to the magnificence of court come the ordinary folk who, subject to sumptuary laws and regulations, wore garments of a simpler cut and cloth – a strata of society that formed the back bone of Tudor England.</p><p>This brief history of 16th century fashion examines clothing for both rich and poor, adult and child, and offers tips and tricks on how to begin to sew your first historically inspired garment, this book is aimed at helping the beginner learn How to Dress like a Tudor.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://mybook.to/howtodress" target="_blank">Get your copy of How to Dress Like a Tudor!</a></span></b></p><p><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with Judith</span></b></h1><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QX2025to13dgHg__78luWKHNzBVPvsT2Hbi8jgAuigWTom0KniEP_y4Ne9sgKTpuuCxRiqVKwfq2YbL0FrDq8KBXLp0AVJtHt-OsOVHBZwpVFKdZg8lKFCkwYvIOne8bVFWTQ0qdl0Y87twr3HopAs7xaYiF3WBJqMh5u97oxUPJaQ5YSpkc67NcT08/s1000/Judith%20Arnopp%20at%20Pembroke%20Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QX2025to13dgHg__78luWKHNzBVPvsT2Hbi8jgAuigWTom0KniEP_y4Ne9sgKTpuuCxRiqVKwfq2YbL0FrDq8KBXLp0AVJtHt-OsOVHBZwpVFKdZg8lKFCkwYvIOne8bVFWTQ0qdl0Y87twr3HopAs7xaYiF3WBJqMh5u97oxUPJaQ5YSpkc67NcT08/s320/Judith%20Arnopp%20at%20Pembroke%20Castle.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Judith writes historical fiction set during the late medieval and Tudor period. Her usual focus is on the women who lived close to the monarch, women like Margaret Beaufort, Elizabeth of York and Mary Tudor but more recently has been writing from the perspective of Henry VIII himself. <a href="http://author.to/juditharnoppbooks" target="_blank">Her books are on Kindle, Audible and Paperback.</a></div><div><div><br /></div><div>She also writes non-fiction, her work featuring in many anthologies and online magazines. Her latest non-fiction, <i><a href="http://mybook.to/howtodress" target="_blank">How to Dress like a Tudor</a></i> published by Pen & Sword Books is available now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Judith is a founder member of a reenactment group The Fyne Company of Cambria, and began making Tudor costumes for herself, her husband, John, and other members of the group. It was this that inspired <i><a href="http://mybook.to/howtodress" target="_blank">How to Dress like a Tudor</a></i> and she hopes to write more non-fiction Tudor history in the future.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Judith on her <a href="http://www.judithmarnopp.com" target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/JudithArnopp" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/in/judith-arnopp-ba999025" target="_blank">LinkedIn</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/tudor_juditharnopp/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/jarnopp.bsky.social" target="_blank">Bluesky</a>, <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/judith-arnopp" target="_blank">Book Bub</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Judith-Arnopp/e/B003CGLWLA/" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, and <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4088659.Judith_Arnopp" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-how-to-dress-like-a-tudor-by-judith-arnopp.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6WHU1BGzYImaa09a1spfW7ZJLR-GoSA2-AmvXM4V9b8oZzlxIISYuc2Hy1ZWU_rxsYmZRCS4xH7YCEeufnH4Nlj0ur3FWzF5Vy6ptaEF9MNToTVelDhMxwHsIEMxHES8FmfgzjHEmsYEN73Uf0Mv2vTTbfFWc0QxSkZVpuPs5NDYh9__Ru5toPdjRVE/w640-h360/How%20To%20Dress%20Like%20A%20Tudor%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-1162892981106784322023-11-24T01:00:00.002-05:002023-12-08T14:21:15.529-05:00The Middle Generation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdiGfZMC9AyJBc9AO2QNk72AdUzxvFfR5YJlwCrSXMuFRd4s62k3m-w8uE9Sm8mGfeyfyTMr7mtsZChH_l-3LSR_bBndVH35o6xJ36pR8Onq9H25J2K6JwMyiOyn_4SacgO-rM6BXT4Ig3vcyueSnlx3KV1uz0xTC1XbbMxdgcutbpeFUN4E2_YzKypI/s640/The%20Middle%20Generation%20Tour%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdiGfZMC9AyJBc9AO2QNk72AdUzxvFfR5YJlwCrSXMuFRd4s62k3m-w8uE9Sm8mGfeyfyTMr7mtsZChH_l-3LSR_bBndVH35o6xJ36pR8Onq9H25J2K6JwMyiOyn_4SacgO-rM6BXT4Ig3vcyueSnlx3KV1uz0xTC1XbbMxdgcutbpeFUN4E2_YzKypI/w640-h360/The%20Middle%20Generation%20Tour%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I'm doing something a little bit different for this stop on the Coffee Pot Book Club tour for <i><a href="https://geni.us/fNbEE" target="_blank">The Middle Generation</a></i>. Normally, I would welcome author M.B. Zucker to the blog, as when <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2022/09/the-eisenhower-chronicles.html" target="_blank">he visited before</a>. However, this time, I couldn't resist the opportunity to read his newly released novel and share my review with my dear readers. So, welcome to my blog's first book review! </p><p>As some of you know, I have great admiration for John Quincy Adams, the protagonist of <i>The <a href="https://geni.us/fNbEE" target="_blank">Middle Generation</a></i>. I was captivated from the first page when I realized that Zucker had not only written about the great JQA, he had done so in first person from John Quincy's point of view!</p><p>How exciting!</p><p>And how intimidating! I have toyed with the idea of writing a novel about Dolley Madison, but I hesitate when I think about being tasked with writing dialog for the Great Little Madison. How could I sufficiently enter that amazing mind? So, I was enthralled to see how this author had done so with one of the most accomplished statesmen of the nineteenth century.</p><p>The book opens with Adams in a cabinet meeting where he is the smartest person in the room. He is <i>always</i> the smartest person in the room, and like most men who find themselves in this position, he knows it. I laughed to myself at his observations of Treasury Secretary Crawford (whose presidential candidacy I'm sad to admit James A Hamilton supported). It was a great start that sets the stage for the intellectual story interspersed with Adams snark that this novel promised to be.</p><p>We also see the more personal side of JQA, and how he holds his family to the same high standards to which he holds himself. This habit, inherited from his own parents, is damaging to relationships and many of the Adams clan that turn to alcoholism to escape it, but John Quincy, like his father before him, demands perfection.</p><p>When John Adams informs his son that he "must" achieve the presidency - and hold it for two terms, JQA feels the pressure even as an adult at that time serving as Secretary of State.</p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>"It was now an issue of life and death. Failure would destroy me and my family. A disgrace for generations. Through history. My name synonymous with shame."</i></blockquote><p></p><p>This just before Abigail rings in with her own dig at them both, "Yes! We shall have a two-term President in this family."</p><p>And you thought you came from a dysfunctional family!</p><p>This novel is introspective. It serves to give access to the reflections of John Quincy Adams to those who will never read his volumes of diaries. Having read some of the entries that have pertained to my own research, I believe Zucker has retained the character of JQA in the thoughts and dialog he has written for him. And there's lots of dialog. As is appropriate for a novel about JQA, more time is spent in conversation than in action, and those discussions take place with all of the biggest names of the day: Monroe, Calhoun, Clay, and a variety of foreign diplomats.</p><p>The reader gains an appreciation for the work of Secretaries of State that often gets little attention or respect. JQA worked tirelessly to gain the US status as a strong, independent nation, and he had a vision for his Presidency that would have benefitted Americans if they hadn't been so obsessed with the authoritarian brute they elected to replace him instead. Adams was, like many great men before him, too far ahead of his time.</p><p>This novel ends before he fully realizes that, with his inauguration and hopes still intact. Maybe Zucker will write more about JQA. I'd love to follow him through his presidency and the defense of the <i>Amistad</i> captives - those years where he fully recaptured any virtue he might have feared lost through his partnership with Clay.</p><p>I wish Americans were more interested in these formative years of the early 19th century. If you are, I recommend picking up this book.</p><p><br /></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">The Middle Generation: A Novel of John Quincy Adams and the Monroe Doctrine<br />by M.B. Zucker</h4><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QCEjRi5FnNzO_0NpF1B8EB-RvxFW2n-lA3NfU3fGvs5w_evkMl-ZtEkWknpczePj6JAPnI4Tze94wxKPidVI6bpZ5BtQ_6ZV8C7XhlwbsFwKMZshWdezeQHXRMovbQ0vwzcsdlFWxZa4su6HaNRzbfIAjVLwv8g0fy-Al5X1jM-UjZzrQNriH2sVpjU/s2100/The%20Middle%20Generation%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QCEjRi5FnNzO_0NpF1B8EB-RvxFW2n-lA3NfU3fGvs5w_evkMl-ZtEkWknpczePj6JAPnI4Tze94wxKPidVI6bpZ5BtQ_6ZV8C7XhlwbsFwKMZshWdezeQHXRMovbQ0vwzcsdlFWxZa4su6HaNRzbfIAjVLwv8g0fy-Al5X1jM-UjZzrQNriH2sVpjU/s320/The%20Middle%20Generation%20cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>The classical era of American history began with the Revolution and ended with emancipation. Between these bookends lies the absorbing yet overshadowed epic of a new nation spearheading liberty’s cause in a world skeptical of freedom arriving at all, much less in slaver’s garb. M. B. Zucker takes readers back to that adolescent country in the care of an enigmatic guide, John Quincy Adams, heir to one president by blood and another, Washington, by ideology. Adams is the missing link between the founders and Abraham Lincoln, and is nigh unanimously regarded as America’s foremost Secretary of State. Through Adams’ eyes, readers will experience one of history’s greatest and most forgotten crises: his showdown with Europe over South American independence, the conflict which prefigured the Monroe Doctrine. <p></p><p>With his signature dialogue and his close study of Adams’ 51 volume diary, M. B. Zucker’s <i><a href="https://geni.us/fNbEE" target="_blank">The Middle Generation</a></i> is a political thriller and character piece that surpasses his achievement in <i><a href="https://books2read.com/u/bp8VVE" target="_blank">The Eisenhower Chronicles</a></i> and ascends to the cinematic heights of the historical epics of David Lean and Steven Spielberg. It is an unforgettable portrait and a leap forward for one of our rising historical fiction novelists. </p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Get your copy at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Middle-Generation-Quincy-Monroe-Doctrine-ebook/dp/B0CKY9DKW3" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-middle-generation" target="_blank">Kobo</a>, or <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-middle-generation-m-b-zucker/1144180428?ean=9781962465076" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a>.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">If you're in the DC area, check out your local B&N for copies!</span></b></div><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDam6wJfpKFcXWMcbHabDnD8Nu22-A4uikWxIDUE9KZnP2GShA9qBiHT9k4m8sdky0RZHu0xZOVi2AqgHRgmDaWTSaaQWjj-10c7P8_8Ehysatmk8zJ4gR7Y3O0AvVT64zwspqw8LNQItIgykO7q_AckC1G5GzRokAEqI4R3mrxD0_kr1AsRsIj2qlsl8/s4032/MB%20Zucker.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDam6wJfpKFcXWMcbHabDnD8Nu22-A4uikWxIDUE9KZnP2GShA9qBiHT9k4m8sdky0RZHu0xZOVi2AqgHRgmDaWTSaaQWjj-10c7P8_8Ehysatmk8zJ4gR7Y3O0AvVT64zwspqw8LNQItIgykO7q_AckC1G5GzRokAEqI4R3mrxD0_kr1AsRsIj2qlsl8/s320/MB%20Zucker.JPG" width="240" /></a></div></h4><h4 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect with M.B. Zucker</span></b></h4><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p>M. B. Zucker has been interested in storytelling for as long as he can remember. He discovered his love of history at fifteen and studied Dwight Eisenhower for over ten years. Mr. Zucker earned his B.A. at Occidental College and his J.D. at Case Western Reserve University School of Law. He lives in Virginia with his wife.</p><p></p><p>Connect with him through his <a href="https://www.michaelbzucker.com" target="_blank">website</a> or on <a href="https://twitter.com/MBZuckerBooks" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100061516155957" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/m.b.zucker.author/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/feed/" target="_blank">LinkedIn</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/M-B-Zucker/e/B09JM74HMF" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, and <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21882348.M_B_Zucker" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-middle-generation-by-mb-zucker..html " style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KMAhTNqw9YjzuFrr_q5MmJ3jq-zwtsDlzMq3PWJNnfuC-Yz9qMDrtEz-X-HoqMCggQXMe5e_XmDsHlVc4SbmysfZbyObA_mFoH8f7LJvRJiuVsklgpY_dxGAV1dF22n7ujGfI_C02B1EROQeSabJuu22RkSQsMN1naedjraautyUpGFh7Ix3GOy7-Wk/w640-h360/The%20Middle%20Generation%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>If you enjoyed this review, please <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5784187.Samantha_Wilcoxson" target="_blank">join me on Goodreads</a>! While I don't review 100 books each year as I once did, I do share what I'm reading & some reviews on those books that I feel most strongly about. I'd love to know what you're reading too!</p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-68252720199295754152023-11-24T00:00:00.122-05:002023-11-24T00:00:00.153-05:00London Tales<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhizNnM995tNgNgXcJXj0xCAmcKKckO-e85V4ZQ9-LuiAVdqnjcMa0MTXQE2QOyrvHipQcXTUew-Q9Zl0YfwHtzjbMC2EblgkbSrDf8vBrRUl0FeSm9oKEhg4qyX6_leOoCYmJAywO1vi1FesO4BCCXiNOFCZzVzxlOMk9JR1fWLXHhmn7dziP2BQ8Sxqs/s640/London%20Tales%20Tour%20Banner%202.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhizNnM995tNgNgXcJXj0xCAmcKKckO-e85V4ZQ9-LuiAVdqnjcMa0MTXQE2QOyrvHipQcXTUew-Q9Zl0YfwHtzjbMC2EblgkbSrDf8vBrRUl0FeSm9oKEhg4qyX6_leOoCYmJAywO1vi1FesO4BCCXiNOFCZzVzxlOMk9JR1fWLXHhmn7dziP2BQ8Sxqs/w640-h360/London%20Tales%20Tour%20Banner%202.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><i>If you've read my <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Women-American-Revolution-Samantha-Wilcoxson-ebook/dp/B0BHBQSZVG/" target="_blank">Women of the American Revolution</a></b>, you might remember Dolley Madison's escape from Washington DC before British soldiers captured and burned the city. This was the biggest news in the US in 1814, but what was happening in London? Author Tim Walker joins me today with an excerpt from his <b><a href="http://mybook.to/LondonTales " target="_blank">London Tales</a></b>.</i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Welcome, Tim!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>~ Samantha</i></div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: left;">Holly's Dream, An Excerpt</h1><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Tim Walker</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>In the winter of 1813-14 the River Thames froze over for the last time, allowing an ice fair to attract revellers onto the frozen river. At her father’s suggestion, 14-year-old Holly attempts to erase a recurring nightmare of a face under the ice by telling the story of the unfortunate victim, Mabel…</i></div><div><br /></div><div>The moon disappears behind the clouds, but the street is lit by gas lanterns on high poles. I’ve rarely walked around after midnight, so I find these new gas lamps to be the most wondrous things, and I glance up at the flickering flames. We head east, past Westminster Abbey, following the line of the river. Night watchmen hunch over their brazier, warming their hands. One turns to stare at us as we hurry past, but says nothing. After a while, I turn at the sound of horse hooves on the cobbles, and gasp at the sight of Master Albright’s footman on his Hanson carriage, swishing his whip over the horse’s rump.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIopF580PR16Mlrr3mpzQu8Dkm_b8mjNZl3Ml55ZZAHg4M_WgGxG-2JD8J9AeO_FZMbeyrZ1_fOyithesQ47u4hmZ48AeWJuOdsjBgrwOLaKpJx6lGAx_SIzLzStZneXZNeyz2wzmVEfhRAcR3f2yyw12dTN3-w3wOMIRLiAkdBMvpBgFOPUzVd7b4Vv4/s1120/Hollys%20Dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="977" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIopF580PR16Mlrr3mpzQu8Dkm_b8mjNZl3Ml55ZZAHg4M_WgGxG-2JD8J9AeO_FZMbeyrZ1_fOyithesQ47u4hmZ48AeWJuOdsjBgrwOLaKpJx6lGAx_SIzLzStZneXZNeyz2wzmVEfhRAcR3f2yyw12dTN3-w3wOMIRLiAkdBMvpBgFOPUzVd7b4Vv4/s320/Hollys%20Dream.jpg" width="279" /></a></div>“Quick, this way!” I hiss, in a loud whisper, grabbing Mabel’s hand and running down a narrow passageway between two warehouses towards the river.</div><div><br /></div><div>We run along the embankment and onto Old London Bridge, its leaning houses lit up by gaslight. There are lights from the windows, as some foolhardy folk still stubbornly dwell in the structures condemned for demolition. To cheer us up, I start singing in puffs of cloudy breath:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>London Bridge is falling down,</i></div><div><i>Falling down, falling down.</i></div><div><i>London Bridge is falling down,</i></div><div><i>My fair lady.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Mabel smiles and sings the next bit, as we swing our arms:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Build it up with wood and clay,</i></div><div><i>Wood and clay, wood and clay,</i></div><div><i>Build it up with wood and clay,</i></div><div><i>My fair lady.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>“It’ll take much more than wood and clay to fix this bridge,” I say, stopping to look back. The bridge approach is shrouded in darkness, and all is still.</div><div><br /></div><div>I lead Mabel between houses to the railings to catch our breath and I look down on the river. The edges are still solid ice with people on. Ice flows to my left are like an army of snow dwarves bobbing down the dark central channel. I study the pinpoints of light where coals glow red in braziers as groups huddle around, warming their hands or toasting bits of meat on skewers. I’m transfixed in that moment and feel myself frozen to the spot. A squeeze on my hand brings me to my senses.</div><div><br /></div><div>“They should be careful,” Mabel says in cloudy puffs, “that ice will be thinning.” There is fear in her eyes at a returning memory, and I hug her.</div><div>A girl screams, and a shudder runs through me, but it’s only a redcoat soldier, grabbing a girl who struggles playfully. She breaks away from his grasp and shuffles across the ice in shoes wrapped in rags, glancing back, hoping he will follow. He does and grabs her arm by the steps that go to the embankment walk. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Authors Note:</b></div><div>Between 1609 and 1814, the surface of the river Thames froze over twenty-four times. Londoners marked some of these occasions with Frost Fairs, erecting market stalls, playing games and cooking meat on the icy surface of the river. Holly’s Dream is set in 1814, the year of the last frost fair, during the reign of ‘mad’ King George III. It was the year before the Battle of Waterloo, where the Duke of Wellington and his allies finally put an end to Napoleon’s dream of a European empire ruled by France and cemented Britain’s rise as a major military power.</div><div><br /></div><div>The story centres on the abduction or purchase of poor children to work under strict supervision in return for board and lodgings, a common practice in the 18th and 19th centuries. Children would be trained to make household goods or be forced to work at a range of jobs from house maids to chimney sweeps. The most unfortunate would have been the victims of sexual abuse or forced into prostitution.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>London Tales</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGq1FPEl_Xi3YjeXW1yg-j6S2_NR1GWgWZ9GBwtarSxcT7S0ZgRZB687_WV2ZORVA2QZpEssaZiI5zyEkumx7a2uc5F7duy2hNoA_Dp8rQK2kWOxrrowPUNd0X_MVs2HUdLzhbYEbLOVv_fHddHJzPpImtMjD4XGUYEVzk3hiHJHGRkx6hCcH1GePzDfQ/s3364/Author's%20banner%201%20London%20Tales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3364" data-original-width="2472" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGq1FPEl_Xi3YjeXW1yg-j6S2_NR1GWgWZ9GBwtarSxcT7S0ZgRZB687_WV2ZORVA2QZpEssaZiI5zyEkumx7a2uc5F7duy2hNoA_Dp8rQK2kWOxrrowPUNd0X_MVs2HUdLzhbYEbLOVv_fHddHJzPpImtMjD4XGUYEVzk3hiHJHGRkx6hCcH1GePzDfQ/s320/Author's%20banner%201%20London%20Tales.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>This collection of eleven tales offers dramatic pinpricks in the rich tapestry of London’s timeline, a city with two thousand years of history. They are glimpses of imagined lives at key moments, starting with a prologue in verse from the point of view of a native Briton tribeswoman absorbing the shock of Roman invasion. The first story is a tense historical adventure set in Roman Londinium in 60 CE from the perspective of terrified legionaries and townsfolk facing the vengeful Iceni queen, Boudica, whose army burnt the fledgling city to the ground.</div><div><br /></div><div>Further historical dramas take place in 1381 during the Peasant’s Revolt, the Great Fire of London in 1666 and the last ice fair on the frozen Thames in 1814. These are followed by a romance set during the Blitz in 1941, then the swinging Sixties and wide-flared seventies are remembered in the life story of fictional policeman, Brian Smith. Moving on, an East End family get a fright from copycat killings that are a throwback to the 1888 Jack the Ripper murders.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4KpoY_V4TaRnFZBeOJlgAhMMwMP6UAjc6zNOml42DQSKczL8uyl2DdBTcb5Qq8ivY3oI_ZBZHQclIMHcWpOtKfJvEpNxup6ysuE3UMahebc-WQbziA-y6BwEORXQPzZEB4PKHBVPulf5QDiy7DqSV38pSidFm-DG4_u4HOH2texCIcWPVOeOc9R4HMo/s1080/IG%20banner%20London%20Tales.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4KpoY_V4TaRnFZBeOJlgAhMMwMP6UAjc6zNOml42DQSKczL8uyl2DdBTcb5Qq8ivY3oI_ZBZHQclIMHcWpOtKfJvEpNxup6ysuE3UMahebc-WQbziA-y6BwEORXQPzZEB4PKHBVPulf5QDiy7DqSV38pSidFm-DG4_u4HOH2texCIcWPVOeOc9R4HMo/s320/IG%20banner%20London%20Tales.png" width="320" /></a></div>There’s a series of contemporary stories that reference recent events, including the London terrorist bombings of 2005, a literary pub crawl and a daring prison break, building to the imagined death throes of London in a chilling, dystopian vision. These stories are loosely inspired by the author’s personal experiences and reflections on his time living and working in London in the 1980’s and 90’s. Adaptability, resilience, conformity and resolve are recurring themes.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>London Tales</i> evokes the city’s rich history and the qualities that were needed by Londoners at various times to survive and prosper – from the base and brutal, devious and inspired, to the refined and civilized. </div><div><br /></div><div>Available from Amazon in e-book, paperback, Kindle Unlimited and audiobook formats, <i>London Tales</i> is a companion volume to <i>Thames Valley Tales</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Book cover designed by Sean McClean, shows elements from stories.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="http://mybook.to/LondonTales" target="_blank">Get your copy of <i>London Tales</i> or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</a></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Connect with the author</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvvNZMbijNpFKnFOp-wy-uP1nMfdxHgMJXZsjmurw2LI9hdwmuFTXejD0DkyG1ArWxB_zDsorqsbj1lnPU7b6PuZ0bT7Tp2E084R31U6O7Askkmz0z4tVcoQPzwZkQn7V_4NcPue1UV-9deZpIZWG-vok4sqLL9Vxd3jfDqrR-OjmUBBKAAT9o56WrrM/s1500/Tim%20Walker%20profile%20photo%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1406" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvvNZMbijNpFKnFOp-wy-uP1nMfdxHgMJXZsjmurw2LI9hdwmuFTXejD0DkyG1ArWxB_zDsorqsbj1lnPU7b6PuZ0bT7Tp2E084R31U6O7Askkmz0z4tVcoQPzwZkQn7V_4NcPue1UV-9deZpIZWG-vok4sqLL9Vxd3jfDqrR-OjmUBBKAAT9o56WrrM/s320/Tim%20Walker%20profile%20photo%203.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Tim Walker is an independent author living near Windsor in the UK. Although born in Hong Kong in the sixties, he grew up in Liverpool where he began his working life as a trainee reporter on a local newspaper. After attaining a degree in Communication Studies he moved to London where he worked in the newspaper publishing industry for ten years before relocating to Zambia where, following a period of voluntary work with VSO, he set up his own marketing and publishing business. He returned to the UK in 2009.</div><div><br /></div><div>His creative writing journey began in earnest in 2013, as a therapeutic activity whilst recovering from cancer treatment. He began writing an historical fiction series, <i>A Light in the Dark Ages</i>, in 2014, inspired by a visit to the part-excavated site of former Roman town Calleva Atrebatum at Silchester in Hampshire. The series connects the end of Roman Britain to elements of the Arthurian legend and is inspired by historical source material, presenting an imagined historical fiction of Britain in the fifth and early sixth centuries.</div><div><br /></div><div>The last book in the series, <i>Arthur, Rex Brittonum</i>, was published in June 2020. This is a re-imagining of the story of King Arthur and follows on from 2019’s<i> Arthur Dux Bellorum</i>. Both titles are Coffee Pot Book Club recommended reads. The series starts with <i>Abandoned</i> (second edition, 2018); followed by <i>Ambrosius: Last of the Romans</i> (2017); and book three, <i>Uther’s Destiny </i>(2018). Series book covers are designed by Canadian graphic artist, Cathy Walker.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tim has also written two books of short stories, <i>Thames Valley Tales</i> (second edition 2023), <i>London Tales </i>(2023); a book of verse, <i>Perverse</i> (2020); a dystopian thriller,<i> Devil Gate Dawn</i> (2016); and three children’s books, co-authored with his daughter, Cathy – <i>The Adventures of Charly Holmes</i> (2017), <i>Charly & the Superheroes</i> (2018) and <i>Charly in Space</i> (2020).</div><div><br /></div><div>Tim took early retirement on medical grounds and now divides his time between writing and helping out at a Berkshire-based charity, Men’s Matters.</div><div><br /></div><div>Find out more about the author at his <a href="www.timwalker1666.wixsite.com/website " target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://goodreads.com/author/show/678710.Tim_Walker " target="_blank">Goodreads Author Page</a>, <a href="http://author.to/TimWalkerWrites " target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>,</div><div><a href="https://facebook.com/TimWalkerWrites " target="_blank">Facebook Page</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/timwalker1666" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://instagram.com/timwalker1666" target="_blank">Instagram</a>.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/10/blog-tour-london-tales-by-tim-walker.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtt3NivKLYCaX-9gTbWrr7Bnl_3Lzpt0RSdQ_NsF5oZYMl2MVdHV-K2SOyTmJA4RpSDq-jdBtEwkyIepBUo8Wdjssc0bTq1AguxD5UsZTRqTQWff3hjwBgi2GpL0Z2xugfDAgizOwjrtmPtx9wuyZBNItWnM2nnSSugr3I6bt-Fd48l6ecDmsVOtjeRmI/w640-h360/London%20Tales%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-43359875151244864572023-11-19T00:00:00.001-05:002023-11-19T00:00:00.144-05:00City of Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i style="text-align: left;">Good morning, dear readers! If you haven't read <b><a href="http://mybook.to/masterworks" target="_blank">Masterworks</a></b> yet, here's more inspiration to pick up your 99c copy. Author Tempest Wright joins me today with some of the history behind her story, <b><a href="http://mybook.to/masterworks" target="_blank">A Good and Proper Lunacy</a></b>. Welcome, Tempest!</i></div><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">City of Chaos</h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Tempest Wright</b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><b>“Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité ”</b>—Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!”</p><p>This was the slogan of the French Revolution. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3KTWzXCDPlVDr-lkytME2cZb7xqiWvZ-nudBvAUFJo8LzrucY4DLQvMc4o2sO6sC24yn8CnjjtIC3-CoIatl6uwGmTvlM52Eioi_1C9iwVh3BCJoyESkUC8TLecW49itPLQamm2t7x9eezGrg19HSHaohi4CGzpMNn0gXeBvzmpMtMAP24-Yh4QxpvI/s940/393338377_839567858174092_1163527355994102356_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3KTWzXCDPlVDr-lkytME2cZb7xqiWvZ-nudBvAUFJo8LzrucY4DLQvMc4o2sO6sC24yn8CnjjtIC3-CoIatl6uwGmTvlM52Eioi_1C9iwVh3BCJoyESkUC8TLecW49itPLQamm2t7x9eezGrg19HSHaohi4CGzpMNn0gXeBvzmpMtMAP24-Yh4QxpvI/w400-h335/393338377_839567858174092_1163527355994102356_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>But the Rebellion of 1832, while sometimes mistaken for that revolution, was nearly 43 years after the original started. That being said, it worked perfectly within the time of Hughes Merle, the artist I tried to bring to life in <i>A Good and Proper Lunacy</i>. Once I began my research, I was a little surprised at just how much chaos there was in Paris after that first and pivotal revolution. So let me introduce you to the City of Chaos.<p></p><p><b>A Tale of Kings</b></p><p>Once the floodgates of the first revolution opened, there was no stopping it. Parisians within the span of fifty years, watched their monarchy fall; the resulting republic give way to the Reign of Terror; the rise and fall of Napoleon Bonapart and then the attempted restoration of a Bourbon monarchy. Keep in mind they were at war for almost 20 years while these changes took place.</p><p>The Bourbon Restoration included the nearest relatives of the guillotined King and Queen, waiting for the chance to be the new monarch. The second of them was Charles X. </p><p>His preference for the ultra-royalists in his government earned him no popularity and when it seemed clear that the government under him did not care for their “constitutional monarch”, Charles tried to silence opposition through restricting the press and pushing the country back to its Catholic faith. When these did not succeed in demanding respect, Charles sought to dissolve the elected chamber and restore himself as the all-powerful monarch of France. </p><p>You may imagine how this was received. </p><p>In 1830, the July Revolution took place, making Charles X flee, and abdicate on the condition that his grandson be the next ruler. But the government cared little for his opinion. Thus, the next King, still of Bourbon descent, Louis- Phillipe, paraded through a hostile crowd towards Hotel de Ville, where he won the support of Republican Lafayette. As Lafayette was something of a symbolic leader of the revolution, his support for Louis was accepted by the people, and Louis-Phillipe became the next King of France. </p><p><b>The Revolution of 1832</b></p><p>Two years had passed and some of the revolutionaries had soured on Louis -Phillipe and their “Citizen King”. The Republicans thought it a failure; they had risked their lives in 1830 to create a Republic, not to put another King on the Throne. The middle class and bourgeoisie however, were victorious in finding a King that would allow them to retain their power of influence- most of the voting or suffrage was done by these men. </p><p>Thus a new rebellion was spawned; one that Victor Hugo immortalized, and one in which we find Hughes Merle, Gabriel, and Dr. Abbot struggling through the barricades of revolutionary Paris, each with their own ends. </p><p><b>The City of Slums and Barricades</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhH0W60SQkdbUEMqjGZUB1P4gMbfgahQr_cAMWF4sLSPU6HQKtFYcotaeAqmI-vfFpCTZHY2DiLSv4oAAXete9Qi8bQCibtrwyVJP_5gxrmp46CvS4BYu8QrJUMt0ji4GLLKizCZqEftM5hY80L3YRuA84dMM6fA6W_i3XQfyNGQTFjxr1zd-N9R6eVM/s957/cit%C3%A96.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="957" data-original-width="689" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhH0W60SQkdbUEMqjGZUB1P4gMbfgahQr_cAMWF4sLSPU6HQKtFYcotaeAqmI-vfFpCTZHY2DiLSv4oAAXete9Qi8bQCibtrwyVJP_5gxrmp46CvS4BYu8QrJUMt0ji4GLLKizCZqEftM5hY80L3YRuA84dMM6fA6W_i3XQfyNGQTFjxr1zd-N9R6eVM/s320/cit%C3%A96.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>Few people today would ever think of Paris as a slum. <p></p><p>But in 1832, Paris, slums were common. While some of the streets in the city, such as the Rue Saint-Honore, were wider and the houses within them catered to the middle and upper class, many of the poorer neighborhoods had retained what Victor Hugo quoted as, “their medieval charm”. Streets were narrow and winding through parts of the city, sometimes housing as many as ten people from the same family in one <i>room</i>. </p><p>These streets – narrow and cramped – were ideal for barricades. Rebellions and revolutions erupted multiple times during the Bourbon Restoration and barricades were an integral part of these rebellions. They provided shelter and protection from which to fire whatever weapons against the King’s army, and slowed down its progress. But in 1832, Louis Phillip’s cannons saw that the rebellion was quenched – and quickly. </p><p><b>City of Sons and Rebels</b></p><p>In many of the sources I’ve found, including<i> The Insurgent Barricade</i> by Mark Traugott and the artist biographies I could find on Hughes Merle, there is little support for Louis Phillipe’s way of defending his government. It was brutal, but there shouldn’t be much surprise either.</p><p>Those with power in “The Citizen King’s” reign had seen first-hand what a republic could do. Louis Phillipe and Francois Guizot, his advisor credited for the army’s harsh retaliation, had been in exile from their home, and even saw some of their father’s pay the ultimate price at the hands of the First Republic. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6AdU9csQqnCWgfm4Jj26q7sNc2Y_3SbNkluklz5UphdxdNPqoXSubjyN8gKvOfxL6uxAsgBhzTpH9VDdKKeDK4R1LpJKibwiC1vfttMILidWtlY11WSBHFRJBKD8XTGHkZKMsGvWvlZLxfkrKkQuZ-gqCheHkb2fXyVLtPtkJgsye4YC8xotT6QC3glk/s1500/King%20Louis-%20Philippe.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1166" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6AdU9csQqnCWgfm4Jj26q7sNc2Y_3SbNkluklz5UphdxdNPqoXSubjyN8gKvOfxL6uxAsgBhzTpH9VDdKKeDK4R1LpJKibwiC1vfttMILidWtlY11WSBHFRJBKD8XTGHkZKMsGvWvlZLxfkrKkQuZ-gqCheHkb2fXyVLtPtkJgsye4YC8xotT6QC3glk/s320/King%20Louis-%20Philippe.JPG" width="249" /></a></div>While not condoning King Charles X entitled right of Kings, Louise Phillipe’s government didn’t want a repeat of Robespierre’s Reign of Terror. <p></p><p>But as Louis fed the hands that gained him power, the poor suffered, and the income gap widened. Cholera spread in the summer of 1832, killing thousands and propagating theories that we might as well call, “conspiracy theories” that the King used it to off his opposition. Such theories, we know now to be ludicrous. Republican activists gave rise to the people’s fears, and propped up revolutions and rebellions that fed others in later years. Revolution had literally become a way of life. </p><p><b>City of Light</b></p><p>The city of Paris as we know it today, was reformed in the 1870’s. Since then, it has become known as the City of Light, and garnered tourists with its wide streets, shops and cafes, that make us think of a Paris so different from the one Hughes Merle knew. </p><p>But it’s there. Buried in history, maybe, but not that deep. And that is how within the lifetime of one artist, a City of Chaos transformed into the City of Light.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://mybook.to/masterworks" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEKBU99RlReNv_REAvTmxAMQymnoKMlaLX-amBKZb5wLheaGTH891lyz12AGUofaLdF6Aw4g-9dVXQgt59d3Z3mxwEXo40txGzbq8e6xwhoiCRqIiGDI3lIaGwXtMTkuypxzaQX-zRET6uUNVjgFMnBbMx3tNJBTeJ-QjoGhUKhFoUt5G74ZDX1_owqos/w400-h335/396510495_842212331242978_5571619322283067870_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-60142293312910934842023-11-11T00:00:00.001-05:002023-11-11T00:00:00.132-05:00Masterworks: Legacy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLU9fXkXYEJOTYEDEvt4fefKBpuW3uKnz0c2elqX2EZ1n5fMa352OuVETDuGRVk8d460ljEvAps_UNk7gi6N-zdNFp9QWsyfh9L_Vn5zuJ3x5mdHhLHyVdUZj8rlV891toUDyTGCU5HtqbPcqSxvNvPv1Wo68cyi1n5rF3mHmvBEBksgzvvcTFVduoO6o/s1600/Legacy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLU9fXkXYEJOTYEDEvt4fefKBpuW3uKnz0c2elqX2EZ1n5fMa352OuVETDuGRVk8d460ljEvAps_UNk7gi6N-zdNFp9QWsyfh9L_Vn5zuJ3x5mdHhLHyVdUZj8rlV891toUDyTGCU5HtqbPcqSxvNvPv1Wo68cyi1n5rF3mHmvBEBksgzvvcTFVduoO6o/w640-h360/Legacy.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Good morning, dear readers! If you haven't already heard, I have a short story included in the latest Historical Writers Forum anthology, and it features James A Hamilton. I'm still buried in research to complete my biography of James due out in early 2025, but you can read this short story, along with ten others, for only <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Masterworks-Historical-Short-Fiction-Inspired-ebook/dp/B0CKM276KF/" target="_blank">99c on Kindle</a>.</p><p>The theme of this anthology is works of art, and each story is based upon a painting, sculpture, musical instrument, or some other artistic inspiration. One clever story is told from the point of view of a painting that has been observing visitors since Elizabethan times. Mine is based upon the Robert Ball Hughes sculpture of Alexander Hamilton that was destroyed in the <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2023/02/james-hamilton-and-1835-great-fire-of.html" target="_blank">Great Fire of New York, less than a year after its installation in 1835</a>.</p><p>Can you imagine growing up as the son of such a famous, brilliant, controversial man? One who was forever remembered in his prime, since he never lived beyond it? James A Hamilton lived to be ninety, and during the Civil War he was in his seventies, with a long and interesting life to reflect upon. His mother had instilled in him a deep need to honor his father's legacy. Did he think he had sufficiently done so?</p><p>He had failed to save the marble statue during the Great Fire, though he had been part of the tireless team that managed to halt the advance of the flames. However, in many other, more important ways, James would have made his father proud, perhaps especially in how he spoke in favor of abolition of slavery during the Civil War.</p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Masterworks-Historical-Short-Fiction-Inspired-ebook/dp/B0CKM276KF/" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Read my James A Hamilton story, Legacy, in <i>Masterworks</i>, the latest anthology from Historical Writers Forum! Only 99c on Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited, and available in paperback.</span></b></a></p><p><br /></p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-2567170231334603702023-11-04T00:00:00.071-04:002023-11-04T00:00:00.136-04:00Many One Sings of the Grass: The Historical, Legendary, and Religious Roots of Robin Hood<p><i>I'm pleased to welcome author Avellina Balestri to the blog today! She shares that there is much more to the character of Robin Hood than most of us realize. Join us to dig deeper into this familiar legend!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Many One Sings of the Grass:
The Historical, Legendary, and Religious Roots of Robin Hood</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Avellina Balestri</b></span></p><div><i>“There’s many one sings of the grass, the grass, and many one sings of the corn, but those that
sing of good Robin Hood know little where he was born.” – Traditional ballad</i></div><div><br /></div><div>When writing my novel <i>Saplings of Sherwood</i>, the first book in a planned Robin Hood
retelling series, <i>The Telling of the Beads</i>, I did so with the keen awareness that I was simply
adding another thread to an already impressive tapestry. The legend of Robin Hood seems
destined to never outgrow its own relevance, even as it resists being pinpointed with any
historical certainty. It has been adapted to the needs of every era and medium of storytelling, and
its popularity shows no signs of waning. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmApvtrUnyCFRNBooWcqRJL_zWkPxLPTA6DduM0E5jP6ulY1UGeguGpmX45hBLh8AY7UmItgwOwKp8TBmrhjwEBJMba-n__3UMhxbiQUDh4Z3nntn7A07pF4uxGFUv9yMK9IxlhoMDRMP3E2gVhfHxq2xbjLrmuXd9qUd2Y3dSLbz7fr9LjQ5GDI9-yls/s1442/FB_IMG_3321264193159867134.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1442" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmApvtrUnyCFRNBooWcqRJL_zWkPxLPTA6DduM0E5jP6ulY1UGeguGpmX45hBLh8AY7UmItgwOwKp8TBmrhjwEBJMba-n__3UMhxbiQUDh4Z3nntn7A07pF4uxGFUv9yMK9IxlhoMDRMP3E2gVhfHxq2xbjLrmuXd9qUd2Y3dSLbz7fr9LjQ5GDI9-yls/s320/FB_IMG_3321264193159867134.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />The tales draw inspiration from the exploits of medieval English outlaws who came to be
regarded as folk heroes for defying oppressive hunting restrictions and lightening the purses of
travelers from privileged classes. They dwelt in the vast forests of Sherwood and Barnesdale and
sometimes forged mutually beneficial alliances with those on the margins of society. Other
historical sources include the feats of Saxon and Welsh rebels who took a stand in the aftermath
of the Norman Conquest, and supporters of Simon de Montfort, who challenged the authority of
the crown in order to establish a regular parliament. Their daring resulted in them being
banished, and branded with the epithet “wolf’s heads.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Beyond history, the enigmatic Green Man of myth prefigures Robin Hood in his style of
executing primal justice and challenging passers-by to test their mettle. We find here the
archetype of the trickster and mischief-maker who, like the wily Reynard the Fox of medieval
fables, leads us on a wild goose chase, only to turn on his heel and pursue us instead. He is the
essence of all things that grow and wither in their allotted time, proclaiming that “no man dies
before his day,” and when he appears with the antlers of a stag and blows his hunting horn, the
souls of the deceased are gathered together and swept into the Wild Hunt, which takes them
across the veil to the Otherworld. </div><div><br /></div><div>This unique combination of cultural facets, through which each passing generation has shone
new light, serves as a testament to the endurance of the human spirit. It is a song that never
sleeps, for it strikes a universal chord within our consciousness that makes us merry even amidst
travail. In this way, there is truth to the saying that Robin Hood dwells in all the forests of the
world. He is an everyman who straddles classes and embodies natural law, enforcing an order
carved deeper than any man-made construct, something eternal, even divine. He is the thin line
between chaos and concord, the Lord of Misrule and the Prince of Thieves, who reflects the
image of our complex yearnings for wholeness in a corruptible universe. </div><div><br /></div><div>In addition to the character’s universality, he also possesses a particularity of place. He is a
personification of the soul of England, shining bright with the memory of the ancient
Anglo-Saxons and their unique expression of liberty. He springs up from the fertile ground of
poaching culture, defending the rights of Englishmen to share in the bounty of the land. In his
kingdom of merry Sherwood, all serfs are made free and all displaced find a home. The
greenwood is the heart of England, and we are invited into it with all hospitality, but must expect
our status to be leveled. Robin Hood is a king for the common man, and rules by the consent of
those who love him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet there are boundaries which he remains within, and therein lies his greatest power. He does
not give himself over to the seduction of the wilderness, but holds himself to a code that often
surpasses that of the establishment. He cannot cast out the conquering Normans, but must learn
to live with, and even learn from, them. Like the Magna Carta, he exists to curb tyranny, but he
would happily shed his blood as a loyal subject of his rightful King, acknowledging an authority
above his own. He is not simply a wish-fulfilling fantasy, for he mingles with our reality,
walking a tightrope between rebellion and restraint. In this, he is the incarnation of that quiet
revolution defining the history of his country, that gleam within the diamond set in the silver sea. </div><div><br /></div><div>My first introduction to the legend came at age six when I fell in love with the charming and
clever fox from the Disney animated feature. While it was expected that parental figures might
meet an untimely end for the sake of a main character’s coming-of-age arc, Robin was a roguish
hero who I still feared might come to harm for putting his life on the line, time and time again,
on behalf of the most vulnerable in his society. This showed another side of love that went
beyond the instinctive sacrifice of a parent for their child and was offered freely to strangers. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>“I only wish I could do more,” Robin tells the mother rabbit in one of my favorite scenes, as
he hands her a bag of coins. “And keep your chin up. Someday there’ll be happiness again in
Nottingham. You’ll see.” </div><div><br /></div><div>“Oh, Robin Hood,” she murmurs, tears filling her eyes, “you risk so much to keep our hopes
alive. Bless you. Bless you.” </div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>This, to me, is the heart of the film and the character – the reason why he became real to me
when I was young and feels no less real to me now. It is why I could not go romping in the fields
and woods surrounding my house without picking up sticks to brandish or bend into bows. It is
why I could not put pencil to paper without scribbling new adventures in Sherwood, in words
and drawings. It is why I became a lover of Britain, her colorful history and heritage, and the
endearing and indomitable spirit of her people. It is what ultimately led me to roam the courtyard
of Nottingham Castle where the famous Robin Hood statue and plaques are to be found, soaking
in the timeless drizzle of English rain. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThlpgYHCxYFRm11W4AwbiHzPnKAbuRl5rVnQuNi9YxYShYhwbj3N_xm3Q6E14S-dfhqhFIecEO8Xj2d5o65I0MY5paDcPLA10yv9Vt8vvdkrhT4_ChGPjxBqLh0n_18mN5ivrOdfNIqHvhJ0yPSJnK30hkqUPEz6huyl1RHsblOoX4nlKOjpQnRWl4E4/s1500/71e3m-dIhqL._SL1500_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThlpgYHCxYFRm11W4AwbiHzPnKAbuRl5rVnQuNi9YxYShYhwbj3N_xm3Q6E14S-dfhqhFIecEO8Xj2d5o65I0MY5paDcPLA10yv9Vt8vvdkrhT4_ChGPjxBqLh0n_18mN5ivrOdfNIqHvhJ0yPSJnK30hkqUPEz6huyl1RHsblOoX4nlKOjpQnRWl4E4/s320/71e3m-dIhqL._SL1500_.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>And yet I never ceased to be haunted by the thought that he could be killed. Collections of the
tales often end with the melancholy scene of Robin shooting his last arrow as he bleeds to death,
having been betrayed at his weakest moment of illness and old age. I have come to see
transcendence at play here, not unlike that present in the Arthurian Cycles when the Kingdom of
Camelot crumbles, and the mortally wounded King Arthur is borne across the sea to nurse his
grievous wounds. With few words of consolation offered, we are yet given cause to hope that
should everything in this world come undone, there is a deeper reality that endures, and for
which we should strive. Time is a part of eternity, and we are all bound up in the fathomless
mystery of dying and rising. </div><div><br /></div><div>Delving into such classic literature from Christendom, one can see the Gospel of Jesus Christ
undergirding it. Many of Robin Hood’s adventures take the form of parables where the last are
made first, and the first last. Outcasts feast at table while hypocrites are dispossessed. He may
rob and ridicule unscrupulous bishops and abbots, but he is still, at heart, a true son of the
Church, who will not plunder even candlesticks consecrated to the purpose of divine worship. He
is remembered as one who shows “mercy on the erring and pity to the weak” and cites “the dear
Christ” as the reason he spares his enemies with his last breath. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the original ballads, Mary, the Mother of Christ, is said to be the only woman in Robin’s
life. Although an earthly lover eventually made her way into the legendarium, the name Maid
Marian is ripe with implications. Throughout his career, Robin is shown refusing to be disturbed
while “telling his beads” for himself and his men, and risks capture to attend Mass for feasts of
the Virgin, known as “lady days.” He also maintains a strict code of behavior in the company of
women, as if the Blessed Mother herself were crossing his path. He is no knight, yet his sense of
chivalry puts to shame many who wear the belt and chain. “I never hurt fair maid in all my
time,” he states in the ballad chronicling his death, “nor at my end shall it be.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Like Robin’s connection to the Green Man, Mary’s prominence in the legends is believed by
some to be a nod to the Lady of the Land, to whom pagan chiefs would offer their fealty in
exchange for a prosperous reign. However, there is no reason to suppose that Robin worships
Mary as a goddess, as has been suggested in certain recent retellings. As a Catholic Englishman
in the country known as “Our Lady’s Dowry,” he venerates her as the grace-filled mother of his
Savior, who spoke prophecy of God’s deliverance to the oppressed peoples of the world in her
Magnificat: “He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” </div><div><br /></div><div>For years now, I have hungered for a novelization of the story that manages to capture the
spiritual ethos of the setting without reducing it to a tangle of superstition and legalism.
Unfortunately, most modern versions, on paper and screen alike, either strip the religious
references or distort them through a secular lens. As a practicing Catholic myself, I hope that my
series manages to portray a living faith that weds the piety of the age to the paradox of the
situation. Indeed, it is the irony of Robin’s position as the leader of a robber band who still shows
greater virtue than many executors of the law and clerics of the Church that makes his story so
unfailingly poignant. </div><div><br /></div><div>In many ways, I am a literary traditionalist, and hit all the major beats of the source material.
However, I used creative license to fill in the spaces and establish characters before they become
defined by their narrative roles. While I did not subvert the placing of heroes and villains, I did
add layers of nuance to both ends of the spectrum. I also shed light on the individual experiences
of peasants, townsmen, outlaws, guards, and other sectors of society that all too often receive
short shrift in favor of following the major players. </div><div><br /></div><div>Regarding style, I walked a careful line between romanticism and realism. Robin’s medieval
world brims with both the banality of evil and the beauty of grace, as does our own, and I believe
the interplay of these two realities is the essence of stories worth telling. I have a deep distaste
for pointless shock factor, and I did my best to approach even the most intense subjects in as
tasteful and empathetic a manner as possible, while still retaining the raw emotional impact. The
intended audience is mid-teens and up, though I suggest that sensitive readers who are disturbed
by the darker elements of the medieval period proceed with caution. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since the accumulated legendarium was compiled over so many centuries, placing Robin
during the reigns of various monarchs, it was impossible to maintain strict historical accuracy
and still capture the evolving nature of the story. I settled on the most popular version that
situates Robin’s outlaw career during the age of Richard the Lionheart and the Third Crusade,
but you will find references to past eras and foreshadowing of future ones. My method takes
inspiration from G.K. Chesterton, who wrote in the preface to The Ballad of the White Horse that
the purpose of myth is to “telescope history.” </div><div><br /></div><div>My personal advice to all those who wish to be historical fiction writers is to cultivate a
healthy respect for the time and place you will be representing. Do not sink into presenting and
patronize our predecessors, but try to see the world as they might have seen it. While there are
various differences, there are also many similarities grounded in the universality of human
experience. Dehumanizing our past and other-izing our ancestors is unfair both to them and to us. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is especially true of stories set during or inspired by the much-maligned Middle Ages.
Too often it is reduced to mud, blood, and manic depression instead of portraying not only
negative aspects of medieval life but also the truly vibrant cultures that flourished during the
period. It was a world far from colorless stagnation and humorless fanaticism. Indeed, perhaps
taking enjoyment in the merriment of history found in age-old stories and songs is part of
redeeming our own sometimes skewed image of the past. </div><div><br /></div><div>With no further ado, I would like to quote the introduction of Howard Pyle’s <i>The Merry
Adventures of Robin Hood</i>: “I lift the curtain that hangs between here and no-man’s land. Will
you come with me, sweet reader? I thank you. Give me your hand.” </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*** </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7ED_vi3w9VUHirTSSOyF-IF6m4_pKJFWsr_CKO9d9F2dDKKZy-EAoZWsqAyRelihrayi84mZDPDJ9jeKPK4uYvt5_B1RXnrHys01FTKBdkX73AethgFGtWCoY_P5Gu1n6ETT_h8e5TIGfLURaBxYDjh2abz7_vsE7UzsTda2xDtd67nnmpuXpIlilO8/s1080/FB_IMG_1695799911700.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7ED_vi3w9VUHirTSSOyF-IF6m4_pKJFWsr_CKO9d9F2dDKKZy-EAoZWsqAyRelihrayi84mZDPDJ9jeKPK4uYvt5_B1RXnrHys01FTKBdkX73AethgFGtWCoY_P5Gu1n6ETT_h8e5TIGfLURaBxYDjh2abz7_vsE7UzsTda2xDtd67nnmpuXpIlilO8/s320/FB_IMG_1695799911700.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Avellina Balestri is an author and editor based in the historic borderlands of Maryland and
Pennsylvania. Her stories, poems, and essays have been featured in over thirty print and online
publications. She has published two books: <i>Saplings of Sherwood</i>, the first book in a Robin Hood
retelling series, and <i>Pendragon's Shield</i>, a collection of poetry. She is the Editor-in-Chief of
<i>Fellowship & Fairydust</i>, a magazine inspiring faith & creativity and exploring the arts through a
spiritual lens. Under its auspices, she hosted a literary conference at Lady Margaret Hall in
Oxford, England, commemorating the legacy of J.R.R. Tolkien. She also has the honor of
representing the state of Maryland at The Sons of the American Revolution National Orations
Contest in Greenville, South Carolina.
For more information about the author and how to purchase her published works, visit her Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.com/stores/Avellina-Balestri/author/B0BN67WRQM" target="_blank">author page</a>, <a href="http://www.avellinabalestri.com" target="_blank">website</a>, or <a href="http://www.fellowshipandfairydust.com" target="_blank">Fellowship & Fairydust</a>. </div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-22128704149751625872023-10-23T00:00:00.001-04:002023-10-23T00:00:00.150-04:00Veuve Clicquot and Madame Pommery: Women Champagne Makers in the 1800s<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYztl5CCv6QMlQUUZibPGed_z3lwv_jGL69JRFu0p2AY1OtoHnzPLcU0cc1Ro3hwaCAF90so8hjWXK8T_KqsM34WieBu1jfJhWCYBGPIlx3dwYaWnl1Fh81SIPRpkcPp5ke_hm0cegjSP-7nBCV2EJwGEAmiTQ5jrWAMLXI7IKGX9dNnvpGXcXn6GuRc/s640/Champagne%20Widows%20Series%20Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYztl5CCv6QMlQUUZibPGed_z3lwv_jGL69JRFu0p2AY1OtoHnzPLcU0cc1Ro3hwaCAF90so8hjWXK8T_KqsM34WieBu1jfJhWCYBGPIlx3dwYaWnl1Fh81SIPRpkcPp5ke_hm0cegjSP-7nBCV2EJwGEAmiTQ5jrWAMLXI7IKGX9dNnvpGXcXn6GuRc/w640-h360/Champagne%20Widows%20Series%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><i>Good morning, dear readers! As you know, I love shining a spotlight on remarkable women in history, so when I had a chance to host author Rebecca Rosenberg and her novels about female Champane makers of the 19th century, I jumped at the chance. </i><p></p><p><i>Welcome, Rebecca!</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Veuve Clicquot and Madame Pommery: Women Champagne Makers in the 1800s</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by Rebecca Rosenberg</b></span></p><p>The next time you watch the bubbles rise in a perfectly gorgeous glass of champagne, you might want to toast Veuve Clicquot and Madame Pommery who grappled with the difficult unpredictable art of making champagne in the 1800’s. As well as being mothers, these women dealt with pandemics, laws against women owning business, years of Napoleonic wars, and Napoleon himself to create champagne!</p><p><b>The Legal Loophole that Clicquot and Pommery slipped through!</b></p><p>In the 1800s, women in many countries were legally barred from owning businesses unless they were widows. However, a few women who managed to overcome these legal challenges and become successful champagne makers.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRLYGaEqb-NVLbS4MSClgcrk8kiG6pyS4OcWrfSlh_E2-Bcg7X18zqV-YoFWCI8LE_9Njo4utpAv0ctL20iepOz6li9g-NCE-w8Z_iWPwU0p4ykySpMsNHIPfG1VYChUZJhMblGo5lsxS9D5rLd8oV_1YirV6GfI0Z6fiEu2bfk7AxAAnToykI9Py16s/s640/Madame%20Pommery%20(1875)%20Edouard-Louis%20Dubufe.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="439" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRLYGaEqb-NVLbS4MSClgcrk8kiG6pyS4OcWrfSlh_E2-Bcg7X18zqV-YoFWCI8LE_9Njo4utpAv0ctL20iepOz6li9g-NCE-w8Z_iWPwU0p4ykySpMsNHIPfG1VYChUZJhMblGo5lsxS9D5rLd8oV_1YirV6GfI0Z6fiEu2bfk7AxAAnToykI9Py16s/s320/Madame%20Pommery%20(1875)%20Edouard-Louis%20Dubufe.jpeg" width="220" /></a></div>Two of the most notable women champagne makers of the 1800s were Madame Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin and Madame Jeanne Alexandrine Pommery. Both women were widows who pioneered champagne making and forged two of the largest and most successful champagne houses in the world.<p></p><p>Clicquot and Pommery were innovators in the champagne industry. Clicquot developed many of the modern techniques used to make champagne, including the riddling process, which makes champagne clear instead of cloudy. Pommery created the first Brut Champagne, a crisp, dry champagne, instead of the dessert beverage that was popular in the early 1800’s. She also focused on the export market, and she helped to popularize champagne all over the world.</p><p>The champagne makers of the 1800s faced many challenges, but they were able to produce some of the finest champagne ever made. Women champagne makers, such as Madame Clicquot and Madame Pommery, were particularly successful in overcoming the legal and social challenges of the time. Their dedication and hard work helped to make champagne one of the most popular and sought-after wines in the world.</p><p><b>Making Champagne in the 1800s</b></p><p>Making champagne in the 1800s was a difficult and challenging task. The winemaking process was not fully understood at the time, and there was a lot of trial and error involved. Champagne makers also had to contend with a number of challenges, including:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLUhwsL4Xey3XiYq0mhVLUy9Y_-755-vUMEjNUaJu1-0D-iq-BaGljn7RwBvJu0m7Jid-db1n-iROezVI7TtW5VPelIgWMnUGBeOMoXgcs9Vcj2vvSw_mZJdjyC1y_CwJhNOpyv_u_CmOXEVdRMIatKnk3dJf80RqGBW-1x2tfI3O05VvicgpDCRPehI/s480/Crushing%20grapes.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLUhwsL4Xey3XiYq0mhVLUy9Y_-755-vUMEjNUaJu1-0D-iq-BaGljn7RwBvJu0m7Jid-db1n-iROezVI7TtW5VPelIgWMnUGBeOMoXgcs9Vcj2vvSw_mZJdjyC1y_CwJhNOpyv_u_CmOXEVdRMIatKnk3dJf80RqGBW-1x2tfI3O05VvicgpDCRPehI/s320/Crushing%20grapes.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>· Diseases and pests<p></p><p>· Weather</p><p>· Technology</p><p>· Logistics</p><p>Despite these challenges, champagne makers in the 1800s were able to produce some of the finest champagne ever made. They developed new winemaking techniques and technologies that helped to improve the quality and consistency of their wines. They also worked to develop new markets for champagne, both within France and abroad.</p><p><b>Pandemics of 1800’s (Yes they had them too!)</b></p><p>There were several pandemics that occurred in Europe during the 19th century, including the cholera pandemic of 1830-1833, the plague pandemic of 1855-1858, and the influenza pandemic of 1889-1890. These pandemics had a devastating impact on the European population, killing millions of people and causing widespread social and economic disruption.</p><p>The pandemics of the 19th century also had a significant impact on the European economy. They led to disruptions in trade and commerce, and they caused a decline in agricultural production. The pandemics also had a negative impact on the development of new technologies and industries.</p><p><b>The Devastating Effect of Wars on Champagne.</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfRzZQLqHZScTatemONLB5usLjYusps0DkQYNiQovOK9st9-m4W8GR8B1vd1AbnkXVTtsgnUM4V0GF_JTgJlT_Jx2L0RJ2ZRPkgIjwTncm2nnxJ2WY2RoMGep3lSL0LQjyegt6OXu5RoOVY0Ty5Fp8Bac_8sIgs0VE6gw5PukCuZIk_-BCxtLESq-7-o/s640/Large%20wine%20cask%20at%20Pommery-%20world's%20fair.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="640" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfRzZQLqHZScTatemONLB5usLjYusps0DkQYNiQovOK9st9-m4W8GR8B1vd1AbnkXVTtsgnUM4V0GF_JTgJlT_Jx2L0RJ2ZRPkgIjwTncm2nnxJ2WY2RoMGep3lSL0LQjyegt6OXu5RoOVY0Ty5Fp8Bac_8sIgs0VE6gw5PukCuZIk_-BCxtLESq-7-o/w400-h217/Large%20wine%20cask%20at%20Pommery-%20world's%20fair.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Veuve Clicquot was just starting to make champagne when Napoleon waged twelve years of Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815) against the crowns of Europe. Napoleon sought to spread of the French Revolution and dominate Europe. The Napoleonic Wars had a devastating impact on Europe. An estimated 6 million people were killed in the wars, including soldiers and civilians. The wars also caused widespread economic hardship and social disruption.<p></p><p>Madame Pommery faced the Franco-Prussian war (1870-1871) when Prussia and the United German states invaded France, and the Prussian army commandeered her home and winery.</p><p>Both Clicquot and Pommery had to continue making champagne, even as the armies were stealing it for themselves.</p><p>· The wars disrupted trade and commerce, making it difficult for champagne producers to export their wines.</p><p>· The wars made it difficult to obtain the raw materials needed to produce champagne, such as grapes and sugar.</p><p>· The wars led to a decline in demand for champagne, as people were more focused on surviving than on celebrating.</p><p>· The war caused a number of champagne producers to go out of business.</p><p>So, when you tip your next glass of champagne, remember what they went through to bring us such pleasure! My favorite champagne quote by my next Champagne Widow:</p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>"I drink champagne when I'm happy and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise, I never touch it - unless I'm thirsty." ~Lily Bollinger</b></blockquote><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSuQaH5vPGGD5HMBQ6QRjZNZUyKfUVA2AGmdbYSnojBTfm_oTysZhPOzEymLpqJKcmI4bLXSbg8II48G7vltUvGBgPwUUr0Vpx48uM15asXCyan6CdMXzKt530vV1lGrIxkLGMe043hV58QpNhx-q8s5yZ70yNwuITuq-RmI-0I0cWoVp3nCIHixCByg/s1080/IG%20banner%20Champagne%20Widows%201.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSuQaH5vPGGD5HMBQ6QRjZNZUyKfUVA2AGmdbYSnojBTfm_oTysZhPOzEymLpqJKcmI4bLXSbg8II48G7vltUvGBgPwUUr0Vpx48uM15asXCyan6CdMXzKt530vV1lGrIxkLGMe043hV58QpNhx-q8s5yZ70yNwuITuq-RmI-0I0cWoVp3nCIHixCByg/s320/IG%20banner%20Champagne%20Widows%201.png" width="320" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Champagne Widows Series</b></span><p></p><p>EDITORS CHOICE HISTORICAL NOVEL SOCIETY</p><p>“A-Tour-de-Force” Publisher’s Weekly BookLife Prize</p><div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>MADAME POMMERY, Creator of Brut Champagne</b></div><div> </div><div>"A tour-de-force of historical fiction, Madame Pommery is a deeply fascinating work that blends true-to-life details with artfully crafted elements." --Publishers Weekly BookLife Prize</div></div><div><br /></div><p>Madame Pommery is a story of a woman's indomitable spirit in the face of insurmountable odds. Set in Champagne, France in 1860, Madame Pommery is a forty-year-old widow and etiquette teacher whose husband has passed away. Now she must find a way to support her family. With no experience, she decides to make champagne, but no champagne makers will teach her their craft. Undeterred, Madame Pommery begins to secretly excavate champagne caves under the Reims city dump and faces numerous obstacles to achieve her dream. From the Franco-Prussian war that conscripts her son and crew to the Prussian General Frederick Franz occupying her home, Madame Pommery perseveres. She even must choose between her champagne dreams and a marriage proposal from her former lover, a Scottish Baron. Inspired by a true story, Madame Pommery is a heroic tale of a woman's strength and determination to create a champagne legacy. If you enjoyed the novel Sarah's Key, you will enjoy Madame Pommery. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/bW6GL1" target="_blank">Get your copy of <i>Madame Pommery</i>, or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</a></span></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>CHAMPAGNE WIDOWS, the First Woman of Champagne</b></p><p>EDITORS CHOICE HISTORICAL NOVEL SOCIETY This engrossing historical novel by Rebecca Rosenberg follows Veuve Clicquot, a strong-minded woman determined to defy the Napoleon Code and become a master champagne maker. In 1800 France, twenty-year-old Barbe-Nicole inherits her great-grandfather's uncanny sense of smell and uses it to make great champagne, despite the Code prohibiting women from owning a business. When tragedy strikes and she becomes a Veuve (widow), she must grapple with a domineering partner, the complexities of making champagne, and the aftermath of six Napoleon wars. When she falls in love with her sales manager, Louis Bohne, she must choose between losing her winery to her husband to obey the Napoleon Code, or losing Louis. In the ultimate showdown, Veuve Clicquot defies Napoleon himself, risking prison and even death. If you enjoyed books like 'The Widow of the South' by Robert Hicks or 'The Paris Seamstress' by Natasha Lester, you'll love 'Veuve Clicquot'.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://books2read.com/u/3kBekW " target="_blank">Get your copy of <i>Champagne Widows</i>, or read FREE with Kindle Unlimited!</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Connect with the author:</b></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZUxsC3HInDO_S69nLJdboqTVzgPNXuHIfCeRE12zyKzibT7j3Qn2wzBUf7kGY_nytbOf2Rgh1MkTRdSn27SPfY-SWUDytb1pAvLYpndHoGn7iH1o4FfsS4kQ113LgunsPh0En79LkYxENZyHXEjgQ2pvbyhE5HvG20wWtaRy7ZUqipytbEwvwzp7SWA/s1080/Rebecca%20Rosenberg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZUxsC3HInDO_S69nLJdboqTVzgPNXuHIfCeRE12zyKzibT7j3Qn2wzBUf7kGY_nytbOf2Rgh1MkTRdSn27SPfY-SWUDytb1pAvLYpndHoGn7iH1o4FfsS4kQ113LgunsPh0En79LkYxENZyHXEjgQ2pvbyhE5HvG20wWtaRy7ZUqipytbEwvwzp7SWA/w320-h240/Rebecca%20Rosenberg.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Rebecca Rosenberg is an award-winning novelist, champagne geek, and lavender farmer. Rebecca first fell in love with methode champenoise in Sonoma Valley, California. Over decades of delicious research, she has explored the wine cellars of France, Spain, Italy, and California in search of fine champagne. When Rebecca discovered the real-life stories of the Champagne Widows of France, she knew she’d dedicate years to telling the stories of these remarkable women who made champagne the worldwide phenomenon it is today. </div><div><br /></div><div>Rebecca is a champagne historian, tour guide, and champagne cocktail expert for Breathless Wines. Other award-winning novels include<i> The Secret Life of Mrs. London</i> and <i>Gold Digger, the Remarkable Baby Doe Tabor</i>.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with Rebecca on her <a href="https://www.rebecca-rosenberg.com" target="_blank">website</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.rosenberg.novelist/ " target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/rebecca-rosenberg-novelist-a4906885/ " target="_blank">LinkedIn</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rebeccarosenbergnovelist " target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/rebecca-rosenberg" target="_blank">Book Bub</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Rebecca-Rosenberg/author/B075WGKJ3Y" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, or <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7652050.Rebecca_Rosenberg" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/08/blog-tour-champagne-widows-series.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjok1Vk0xOO0EsBKM6xUczRDhxsv6Zg7LL8corNrfi7av6X1y29gpxl5SBJ8zooXsjYkr1hafGNbhSwn43yZnisJt3vhNmX2uEZSL1Ryi8DsmC2vjQ9SJE1aDMI-Dkt_c6q878nkIWbKZ0-6ElL2E4jObfvQEA4lfjRVbp5MlGrKpfiHlltoEBFmjv5S_w/w640-h360/Champagne%20Widows%20Tour%20Schedule%20Banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-3599106064082670452023-10-13T00:00:00.003-04:002023-10-13T00:00:00.158-04:00Falling for Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitivdf1W1OIsvOe3IVqObgrQ-ADYejgfvuqPX40VoHsiptkGIweKutPmGSlOkaTVrG8c3E2InofB8AHekXZmM_ob4rID1JHTnUEFJrtTzSGRi5u1cB7GipXpgn5LbOg0oNvm58XvJGXFIJ6puxCH1bLzGM36bVvRzgjvx4gW4zTN1YGQYgO_S6lSiGdQc/s6000/DSC_0081%20(2).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitivdf1W1OIsvOe3IVqObgrQ-ADYejgfvuqPX40VoHsiptkGIweKutPmGSlOkaTVrG8c3E2InofB8AHekXZmM_ob4rID1JHTnUEFJrtTzSGRi5u1cB7GipXpgn5LbOg0oNvm58XvJGXFIJ6puxCH1bLzGM36bVvRzgjvx4gW4zTN1YGQYgO_S6lSiGdQc/s320/DSC_0081%20(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>One of the first people I asked to read <i><a href="http://mybook.to/PPTQ" target="_blank">Plantagenet Princess Tudor Queen</a></i> before it was published pointed out some of my Americanisms that needed to go. The one I remember most vividly was referring to autumn as fall. Upon thinking about it, I agreed that autumn does sound so much nicer, and I've tried to get into the habit of referring to this beautiful, chilly season by the term favored on the other side of the pond.</p><p>In October 2019, I was in <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2019/10/historic-places-ottawa-illinois.html" target="_blank">Ottawa, Illinois</a>, doing research for the book that would become <i><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous</a></i>. I hadn't decided on a title yet, but I was completely drawn into Catherine Donohue's story and felt so honored to walk the streets she had walked and go to Sunday morning worship at her church. Starved Rock was and is a gorgeous place for an autumn hike, so I did, imagining Catherine doing the same all the while.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgLSTVHz_CYNpzlNZURzVdi5HhJRNHH_U6K-GdidYbAwaKdcJxY_0YHfX7Y95P3woycgOpOOKqeB9wfBGBfKrcAUIRmkX30ZhG0NmSrQNczO69rx_f9hN5wMEdwRI4dKiQaYuX1HPJ4RnZj-EBKmb8_Pu2CmuF7NPcHD-PkiKPJe_5eK7C8VjTIqdhuY/s6000/DSC_0302.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgLSTVHz_CYNpzlNZURzVdi5HhJRNHH_U6K-GdidYbAwaKdcJxY_0YHfX7Y95P3woycgOpOOKqeB9wfBGBfKrcAUIRmkX30ZhG0NmSrQNczO69rx_f9hN5wMEdwRI4dKiQaYuX1HPJ4RnZj-EBKmb8_Pu2CmuF7NPcHD-PkiKPJe_5eK7C8VjTIqdhuY/s320/DSC_0302.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-CnWZ5EKP03J3J04xOQEQiG2aXGDCxXXpbhstAoaqPo61R3T1nxv9sslxgmq-0vOPR83PI-3k2xr9Nh007-7_CubwAqTwllYzyQx_gm8dzUTwlxZpICg0beGmgm5bH3h6wZjQMrDdedZIu46T8CNshqRITX50lECNQwstJSwUoYvDQwidwpOeklHvrQ/s6000/DSC_0309.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-CnWZ5EKP03J3J04xOQEQiG2aXGDCxXXpbhstAoaqPo61R3T1nxv9sslxgmq-0vOPR83PI-3k2xr9Nh007-7_CubwAqTwllYzyQx_gm8dzUTwlxZpICg0beGmgm5bH3h6wZjQMrDdedZIu46T8CNshqRITX50lECNQwstJSwUoYvDQwidwpOeklHvrQ/s320/DSC_0309.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA3QmnB1uXREB_C8zu2_N14iKAzxS3fuDfQHtxq2pEUkWHfb1v2QeAQHVthHrt3bSPpTcGAiWt0Xcbhnba7iyuZC6-G75bB2BpJGDYfvZOckdVV4ONlopWJer2Y0zs8PlCzD_GpkhYjBi64QVhEru0Akqtt8cWJa2cPghNOB3fXXFwss9-TdlSwwgnr0/s6000/DSC_0281.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA3QmnB1uXREB_C8zu2_N14iKAzxS3fuDfQHtxq2pEUkWHfb1v2QeAQHVthHrt3bSPpTcGAiWt0Xcbhnba7iyuZC6-G75bB2BpJGDYfvZOckdVV4ONlopWJer2Y0zs8PlCzD_GpkhYjBi64QVhEru0Akqtt8cWJa2cPghNOB3fXXFwss9-TdlSwwgnr0/s320/DSC_0281.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p>In <i><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous</a></i>, it is during a trip to Starved Rock that Catherine and Charlotte first encounter a little bird that they would meet several times through their tragic journey. This element of the story was taken from a newspaper article in which a descendent of Charlotte's mentioned that she would say a little bird was a visit from Catherine long after her friend had died of radium poisoning. I decided this little bird deserved its own place in the story and called it Hope.</p><p>The following October, in 2020, I was on a rather different trip. Along with my husband and youngest son, I toured the old Northern Michigan Asylum in Traverse City. Now called the <a href="https://www.thevillagetc.com/history/" target="_blank">Village at Grand Traverse Commons</a>, this lovely old place is partly renovated shops and housing and part dilapidated ruins that get a creative mind churning. At the time though, I couldn't think of what exactly to do with this amazing setting.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kxzIwaazoPoVYqzjIuyE3vYOfm1tmFSL7JKskpERnd47D__IAwXH3adWy99TRhsQrYZm8BTvntdvaZAVwNANEAGGchk8mTzspQjEBbpL73zqTzZucSmKRyQ43levNhyzo6-JJkSpiWv_hoCfovR2akxHwXxEuf6APCo7zlTBIPXEKkMJALg1TT98dGo/s6000/DSC_0453.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kxzIwaazoPoVYqzjIuyE3vYOfm1tmFSL7JKskpERnd47D__IAwXH3adWy99TRhsQrYZm8BTvntdvaZAVwNANEAGGchk8mTzspQjEBbpL73zqTzZucSmKRyQ43levNhyzo6-JJkSpiWv_hoCfovR2akxHwXxEuf6APCo7zlTBIPXEKkMJALg1TT98dGo/s320/DSC_0453.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvjVwv4W3oXek9YCHZnMboRdJ9yu2iBRCwM_cLHJhlhEk44_oqYdklvTGMPaq30N9uRsS9o0sajs5fXL_QqoozHh2U-l0ULwWZs5LxBb2URth5NOqiTWb-QBNG-yFYbHFa8rDvyI9RLhqecDJkaDkfR0LjT2pm9IGOM7KiLXPaL0bQ-zl9Bs_P7YfRmc/s6000/DSC_0488.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvjVwv4W3oXek9YCHZnMboRdJ9yu2iBRCwM_cLHJhlhEk44_oqYdklvTGMPaq30N9uRsS9o0sajs5fXL_QqoozHh2U-l0ULwWZs5LxBb2URth5NOqiTWb-QBNG-yFYbHFa8rDvyI9RLhqecDJkaDkfR0LjT2pm9IGOM7KiLXPaL0bQ-zl9Bs_P7YfRmc/s320/DSC_0488.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7SuuNoBW6xaPjbU4qyGgl07ed8QQ80DghTcDWaT3eSApBrx_DvnOMaJhVg5Zt_bunGuqb6Hxdq5LpnjFX3DO08I6gP6nUWkeD0x_XpSS1vRJ20rXK3KSD3s8-uuqySiKxOo3uVfAGIZBzpfeTQCMoXA6_6uZ3sawPTH-uh3PEGu3oiNB2zXR0KLNcuU/s6000/DSC_0495.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7SuuNoBW6xaPjbU4qyGgl07ed8QQ80DghTcDWaT3eSApBrx_DvnOMaJhVg5Zt_bunGuqb6Hxdq5LpnjFX3DO08I6gP6nUWkeD0x_XpSS1vRJ20rXK3KSD3s8-uuqySiKxOo3uVfAGIZBzpfeTQCMoXA6_6uZ3sawPTH-uh3PEGu3oiNB2zXR0KLNcuU/s320/DSC_0495.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p>A few months later, I was approached about writing a ghost story for Historical Writers Forum, and I knew just where mine would take place. Besides the breathtaking views of trees and surrounding lakes, the old asylum has tunnels that used to serve as its heating system. An Edith Wharton style ghost story started forming in my mind and eventually was published in the <i><a href="http://mybook.to/HauntingsAnth" target="_blank">Hauntings</a></i> anthology.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTucA4NJ87XJZzKBs7TfphOVaxST3YNSV-e-sIyud-xPu0YqeJr2WDM-aNZ49JYz3Z0cku5xySHb7MODGhdyDEtU2MY3h6NdN9Lr1ZciPSGHuRjGF98rBahI-B-36fWNR8WCw3MPVgpyclTSZaeJE15qsyOtK6l8Af2Q6kqs2UXfwhzkBd6J5ECZq3c3U/s4032/20201030_221107350_iOS.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTucA4NJ87XJZzKBs7TfphOVaxST3YNSV-e-sIyud-xPu0YqeJr2WDM-aNZ49JYz3Z0cku5xySHb7MODGhdyDEtU2MY3h6NdN9Lr1ZciPSGHuRjGF98rBahI-B-36fWNR8WCw3MPVgpyclTSZaeJE15qsyOtK6l8Af2Q6kqs2UXfwhzkBd6J5ECZq3c3U/s320/20201030_221107350_iOS.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>My story was titled <a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/heb0g8o1yl" target="_blank"><i>Among the Lost</i></a>, and since I had recently published <i><a href="http://mybook.to/luminous" target="_blank">Luminous</a></i>, I decided to set it during the same time, 1927, and give a nod to my Ottawa ladies in a glow-in-the-dark painting owned by one of the asylum residents. I also couldn't resist having another patient who loudly and randomly quoted Dante, which gave me the title. If you've already read <i><a href="http://mybook.to/HauntingsAnth" target="_blank">Hauntings</a></i>, you know what is discovered within the tunnels of the asylum, if you have not, <a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/heb0g8o1yl" target="_blank">my story is currently free here</a>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/heb0g8o1yl" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_Axc_HTXpLrgm4afWfjjO_fjoYZt6QzEGR2rJPEFSjQiuHg5zEBwl_btfQJ9CNaGc4Qwq8TLt02uQNDlKrJou4kwpe8Mt0Ja9P-QTu3VcQ8XC5jadh8myvHVBGz-yyJawJb-yiNFSIVcB2ihqi7NW1qumQv46u9pIjuekUuldJoL6uHzrm2RAm_xqi4/s320/Free%20ebook.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Living in Michigan, I have a love-hate relationship with autumn. It's absolutely gorgeous, and I love the onset of sweatshirt weather, going on hikes, and trying to take photos that capture nature's majesty. However, Michigan's seasons aren't as balanced as they should be, and that crisp wonderfulness quickly devolves into cold, wet, snowy bleakness. If we could just get more than a couple weeks of perfect pumpkin spice fall...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnbiw24EkqDOTPcQORiTwhKDXqQHVu5v2_jREMrj9dEcfZQrDDJyWGzv5dGaxKpRDrwz8OdPwGxx1amNFCesIetXbIY1Zt9aKZL-E34uZCBubRY1_N_hH4gWawKDsHt4sqdsBPY0WPM-hA0DutTDqzCWE2yNahDpa7LbusuAAPrBu3L2M1DUpRkFpvMg/s3024/20201006_120010962_iOS.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnbiw24EkqDOTPcQORiTwhKDXqQHVu5v2_jREMrj9dEcfZQrDDJyWGzv5dGaxKpRDrwz8OdPwGxx1amNFCesIetXbIY1Zt9aKZL-E34uZCBubRY1_N_hH4gWawKDsHt4sqdsBPY0WPM-hA0DutTDqzCWE2yNahDpa7LbusuAAPrBu3L2M1DUpRkFpvMg/s320/20201006_120010962_iOS.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwAHtA8x3KkdgPiEhyphenhyphendKnynLllFmcfAwku6fhvk2Mmm6yC4KYuyazAv3QNtOjsj2-TXCKc6GNolDycNwt3OhAOD4EzHpiuxKME07kV2zHwBoWDmDRoMN_a7sqZ92eClFYbtG7eMYyjIVl5LmKRljXkcFbOP85FPsoKMo0AlVEwPIrL2DhgCoMyNcKeUGs/s2742/20201011_204318228_iOS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2742" data-original-width="2742" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwAHtA8x3KkdgPiEhyphenhyphendKnynLllFmcfAwku6fhvk2Mmm6yC4KYuyazAv3QNtOjsj2-TXCKc6GNolDycNwt3OhAOD4EzHpiuxKME07kV2zHwBoWDmDRoMN_a7sqZ92eClFYbtG7eMYyjIVl5LmKRljXkcFbOP85FPsoKMo0AlVEwPIrL2DhgCoMyNcKeUGs/s320/20201011_204318228_iOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JB1QDSNmuz8oHYWpasXRKY_Q1qhcbLMcaSr-ItAPrXZ4wWoenk0zkQjFHdEad6EXNW9CRdXkd80JZxsg546JmgkRUSMcrFSGTOpR3RBU-xmjqnIruIGSSFRO9Cp4bPGIzzfnS7AZyXfGm2EBT8yIG2J0T4z-RgbtQXJ5VaJFKJo6ehvSoKRo73i_dgY/s960/20201012_115655866_iOS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JB1QDSNmuz8oHYWpasXRKY_Q1qhcbLMcaSr-ItAPrXZ4wWoenk0zkQjFHdEad6EXNW9CRdXkd80JZxsg546JmgkRUSMcrFSGTOpR3RBU-xmjqnIruIGSSFRO9Cp4bPGIzzfnS7AZyXfGm2EBT8yIG2J0T4z-RgbtQXJ5VaJFKJo6ehvSoKRo73i_dgY/s320/20201012_115655866_iOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>This October, I am working on two James A Hamilton projects, neither autumn themed I am sad to say, but one that will be available to my dear readers soon. You probably already know that I am working on a biography for Pen & Sword that is scheduled for publication January 2025, but if you've been enjoying my posts about James and would like something sooner, you're in luck! This year's Historical Writers Forum anthology contains short stories based on works of art, and I decided that mine would be the marble statue of Alexander Hamilton that was destroyed in <a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.blogspot.com/2023/02/james-hamilton-and-1835-great-fire-of.html" target="_blank">New York's Great Fire of 1835</a>. In this short story, James reflects on his life and ponders if he has honored his father's legacy. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKM276KF" target="_blank">Masterworks</a></i> is available for pre-order now for only 99c and will be available through Kindle Unlimited on November 1st.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKM276KF" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOPal7vLy_a1hyphenhyphenAl5RkIXq8ygCQhZ_6Cd-3D-NMS01RBs1IHsF0APRbVJFSSND0gCVDvc0_MRtlawJb82kWx80QCj4vg5UO6SEEvMu7fOIkcXFN9_3Qvh0W45wlDTBUfmNinDPCGueqDELxQ6QZimD0yV9JEbAxp9mhXnqgUAjpemNGKWWJ9xiW8Hwio/s320/Masterworks%20Preorder.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>One more little bit of news before I go. In response to requests for signed copies of my books and for those who prefer to "shop small" rather than through Amazon, I have opened up a little online bookshop. Orders here will be filled directly from my home to yours, so I can sign books and will include little bonuses like stickers and bookmarks. Please keep small businesses, and especially independent writers, in mind as you consider your Christmas shopping this year. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://samanthawilcoxson.square.site/s/shop" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVu9i-xkK5LgXDqTLWOTH83hbeBXcAQ0qaW8qRyRyqtSuHE18TsHen51JoGC4RyXj9ySPgd2CFoEVTnPPS1TVHCNTYSCzi_9B18zq_AzpD7k6ThepM5TKf4Hd5lDEibgZmVqZVbXML4l2aqbkXLkhKlBSR9ZBdTEDEycBbyD_IcTr-NXbQ_NHVBtonMHA/s320/tiled%20books.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Enjoy this fantastic season while it lasts, and happy reading!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kG5iy40WwnBUSXOz8FXz4pvgXlq71TnFL6uZm4rdtGcL2bCrZF5X_P_ietxKfuEYTTk2mNFYFMvWCaMxCZurHPOhyphenhyphen1ThK30tnAWkVSlnpbfeAbIlGU99UaxIHAOgtYi6Re9iePDOkI5iGvAQ9dScPImv25trA60uEOCJuOjKqYybFn8tNaQ2WNeD4pw/s4032/20221023_201644756_iOS.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kG5iy40WwnBUSXOz8FXz4pvgXlq71TnFL6uZm4rdtGcL2bCrZF5X_P_ietxKfuEYTTk2mNFYFMvWCaMxCZurHPOhyphenhyphen1ThK30tnAWkVSlnpbfeAbIlGU99UaxIHAOgtYi6Re9iePDOkI5iGvAQ9dScPImv25trA60uEOCJuOjKqYybFn8tNaQ2WNeD4pw/s320/20221023_201644756_iOS.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>All photos taken by me at Starved Rock State Park, the Village at Grand Traverse Commons, and around my home in southwest Michigan. If you enjoy my photos and writing/research updates, please follow me on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/samantha_wilcoxson" target="_blank">Instagram</a> or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PlantagenetEmbers/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>.</p>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7353745119638688943.post-78988991562225400362023-10-10T00:00:00.004-04:002023-10-10T00:00:00.148-04:00Burning Secret<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LQ-355KQJNNdmeGb536RTA8XD7TtTixNIjxyXBsIN9JeoizieaW7O_75jItuU5rrs1xIuA5VzMuJuthvOWG2i10Kf1V8DHn1EzzDVdsM2BIH5RH1gF8QesmxFsYjyQnkfOir-RRkCzZgXN7BeHblVPr938peBtPycfj52UtPpajObUHfB_XZ83BXxq4/s640/Burning%20Secret%20Tour%20Banner%202.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LQ-355KQJNNdmeGb536RTA8XD7TtTixNIjxyXBsIN9JeoizieaW7O_75jItuU5rrs1xIuA5VzMuJuthvOWG2i10Kf1V8DHn1EzzDVdsM2BIH5RH1gF8QesmxFsYjyQnkfOir-RRkCzZgXN7BeHblVPr938peBtPycfj52UtPpajObUHfB_XZ83BXxq4/w640-h360/Burning%20Secret%20Tour%20Banner%202.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><i>Lately, I've been on the lookout for novels that take place in 19th century America, so when I came across RJ Lloyd and his <b>Burning Secret</b> I was eager to invite him to my blog and talk about his story. It takes place in one of our loveliest, sunniest states - Florida! But I'll let him tell you more.</i></p><p><i>~ Samantha</i></p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><h1 style="text-align: left;">Burning Secret</h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post by RJ Loyd</b></span></p><p>Thanks for inviting me as your guest. Burning Secret begins in London on New Year's Day 1881, with Enoch Price recorded in the London Gazette as a bankrupt, facing a sentence of several years in the debtors' prison. By May that year, he had deserted his wife and three young daughters and was onboard the SS Polynesian bound for a new life in Jacksonville, Florida. By the time Enoch steps ashore on Hogan Street jetty, Jacksonville, he has changed his identity and become Harry Mason. Harry's first work came a few days later as a bartender at The European House, a bar in the Dutch style run by Nicky Arend at 80– 82 West Bay. </p><p>Burning Secret is a true story. Well, almost. The novel blurs the lines between fact and fiction as it reconstructs the real life of Harry Mason, and is a story that many can relate to through their own ancestors and family histories. The recollections of my cousins on both sides of the Atlantic drove me, almost inevitably, to tell the story of this extraordinary and complex man. The novel operates on several levels: as a fast-paced thriller with plenty of derring-do, a morality tale of good vs. greed, and how life can easily corrupt the pursuit of happiness. Some have even suggested it's a tragic love story.</p><p>Most of the book is set in Florida. Harry arrives in Jacksonville at a time when it was still regarded as a frontier town, only sixteen years after the end of slavery and the American Civil War, when Florida had fought on the defeated Confederate side. By 1888, Harry had married, bigamously, and lived with his wife and children at 509 West Adams Street in the district of LaVilla. That same year, a deadly outbreak of Yellow Fever decimated Jacksonville. In 1901, the city was razed to the ground by the Great Fire of Jacksonville, a conflagration that had started at the Cleveland mattress factory at Beaver and Davis Streets. Harry plays a pivotal role in the city's recovery from these catastrophes. But his audacious gamble to promote, against fierce public opposition, the 1894 World Heavyweight Boxing Championship fight between Gentleman Jim Corbett and the English challenger Charlie Mitchell turned his fortunes from bartender to millionaire. </p><p>Harry began to spread his wings, buying, under dubious circumstances, the Acme, Aragon and Everette Hotels on Julia and Forsythe Street. But Harry wanted more than a few saloons and hotels. He was determined to build an empire on political power and influence. On 15 June 1897, Harry was elected to the Jacksonville City Council, representing the eighth ward of Ortega Venetia and Avondale. In 1903, he was elected to the Florida State House of Representatives. </p><p>Throughout Harry's life, there was always the whiff of things not being entirely straight. During the final two decades of his life, he celebrated opening his own bank, The Bank of South Jacksonville, on the northwest corner of Hendricks and St. Johns Avenue (now Prudential Drive) and was chairman of several prosperous businesses. His most outstanding achievement was building the Hotel Mason on the junction of Bay and Julia Street, which opened on 31 December 1913. The largest and most opulent hotel in Florida (demolished in 1978).</p><p>Harry died on 5 November 1919 at his home, the Villa Alexandria, which, at that time, was located near the junction of River Road and Arbor Lane in the district of San Marco. It was originally built by the Mitchell family in the 1870s and came into Harry's ownership in somewhat opaque circumstances.</p><p>Surprisingly, whilst many of Harry's friends, business partners and historically important contemporaries are recorded in Jacksonville to this day, one must dig very deep into obscure records to find his name. Only one photograph of him survives, taken in 1903 when he was elected to the House of Representatives. </p><p>Harry is buried alongside his American wife at Evergreen Cemetery, Jacksonville, Florida.</p><p><br /></p><div><div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMP_FSw25y2o2nyQaKcqf3DCM5-mFyxSiuz-PwZ3Xq4ZAttv4PNCDSW3rr7rKTTxrwPuv9Mtb_gsqDjhv24RR9Sm3rUsSzZvn4-X3I09lDzE7CDV5dzRcSeubYMSZok61Nuu4PfNTP9qGleqGlupixzuYhCDK-cKlPq2QncadE60nTls2oyoNly6EPh4/s1080/IG%20banner%20Burning%20Secret.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMP_FSw25y2o2nyQaKcqf3DCM5-mFyxSiuz-PwZ3Xq4ZAttv4PNCDSW3rr7rKTTxrwPuv9Mtb_gsqDjhv24RR9Sm3rUsSzZvn4-X3I09lDzE7CDV5dzRcSeubYMSZok61Nuu4PfNTP9qGleqGlupixzuYhCDK-cKlPq2QncadE60nTls2oyoNly6EPh4/s320/IG%20banner%20Burning%20Secret.png" width="320" /></a></div>Inspired by actual events, Burning Secret is a dramatic and compelling tale of ambition, lies and betrayal. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Born in the slums of Bristol in 1844, Enoch Price seems destined for a life of poverty and hardship-but he’s determined not to accept his lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>Enoch becomes a bare-knuckle fighter in London’s criminal underworld. But in a city where there’s no place for honest dealing, a cruel loan shark cheats him, leaving Enoch penniless and facing imprisonment. </div><div><br /></div><div>Undaunted, he escapes to a new life in America and embarks on a series of audacious exploits. But even as he helps shape history, Enoch is not content. Tormented by his past and the life he left behind, Enoch soon becomes entangled in a web of lies and secrets. </div><div>Will he ever break free and find the happiness he craves? </div><div><br /></div><div>Influenced by real people and events, Enoch’s remarkable story is one of adventure, daring, political power, deceit and, in the end, the search for redemption and forgiveness. </div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://books2read.com/u/brBBOZ " target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Get your copy of Burning Secret!</span></a></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Connect with RJ Lloyd</b></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLECP4SbA497tPol4JloFzegkrWQsGSVZ3iZJC5lgK7Hsco3_cSdvPwkHJNpDV5X-JQI3uPK1D6QVbxaeTGi5PRqjytG1B6IUp4sTCEq0eSfBSUKxURaxILsjTQAT4Ba-8WpXkCj5Kpol7sHabgmyzLPDbJv3BX2JM8VxTCQ9anZoPoWBzrUhKmrELOA/s302/R.J.%20Lloyd%20author.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="302" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLECP4SbA497tPol4JloFzegkrWQsGSVZ3iZJC5lgK7Hsco3_cSdvPwkHJNpDV5X-JQI3uPK1D6QVbxaeTGi5PRqjytG1B6IUp4sTCEq0eSfBSUKxURaxILsjTQAT4Ba-8WpXkCj5Kpol7sHabgmyzLPDbJv3BX2JM8VxTCQ9anZoPoWBzrUhKmrELOA/s1600/R.J.%20Lloyd%20author.jpeg" width="302" /></a></div><br />After retiring as a senior police officer, R J Lloyd turned my detective skills to genealogy, tracing his family history to the 16th century. However, after 15 years of extensive research, he couldn’t track down his great-great-grandfather, Enoch Price, whose wife, Eliza, had, in living memory, helped raise his mother.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was his cousin Gillian who, after several more dead-ends, called one day to say that she had found him through a fluke encounter. Susan Sperry from California, who had recently retired, decided to explore the box of documents given to her thirty years before by her mother, which she had never opened. In the box, she found some references to her great grandfather, Harry Mason, a wealthy hotel owner from Florida who had died in 1919. It soon transpired that Susan’s great grandfather, Harry Mason, was, in fact, Enoch Price. </div><div><br /></div><div>From this single thread, the extraordinary story of Harry Mason began to unravel, leading R J Lloyd to visit the States to meet his newly discovered American cousins, and it was Susan Sperry and Kimberly Mason, direct descendants, who persuaded R J Lloyd to write the extraordinary story of their ancestor. </div><div><br /></div><div>R J Lloyd graduated from the University of Warwick with a degree in Philosophy and Psychology and a Masters in Marketing from UWE. Since leaving a thirty-year career in policing, he’s been a non-executive director with the NHS, social housing, and other charities. He lives with my wife in Bristol, spending his time travelling, writing and producing delicious plum jam from the trees on his award-winning allotment. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Connect with him on his <a href="http://www.lloydfamilyhistory.co.uk" target="_blank">Website</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/rjlwriteruk" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/roger.lloyd.948" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rjlwriteruk/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/R-J-Lloyd/e/B0B4KHGHXZ" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a>, or</div><div><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61333266-burning-secret" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/09/blog-tour-burning-secret-by-r-j-lloyd.html " imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLb1wtd_S4loKA9Pybim86wo0ILKKXLfWnxC2RU_R6f4My4u2iDwkmHdR6fxYmb9n5hAMPyoxlsHhpUTgDxMmksZy2M7EI1GFNDlqHOKMFTqHd3AGY_s6mfzajPUiApit9gjdalMpI-tkUK9AT6SQ5RDFtUvd73JTMPMxpxg9cNTviHv3h2roG861QjI/w640-h360/Burning%20Secret%20Tour%20Schedule.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Samantha Wilcoxsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473495253682074133noreply@blogger.com2